Halfbaked Bunnies
by Iulia
Summary: A graveyard for unfinished fics. SasuSaku, mostly.
1. Lullaby for a Stormy Night

**Author's Notes: **This is a fic that I would have submitted to the Fractured Tales Anthology had I actually finished it. But my brain died out on me halfway through, and until now I haven't been able to finish it. I really enjoyed writing this though and hope to finish it someday.

**Disclaimer: **Naruto isn't mine.

**Lullaby for a Stormy Night**

If you want to see the vilest of the vile, the meanest of the mean, and the pinnacle of evil in the sorry species that is the human race, you might want to take a look at the 'children'.

Children, though they may look it, are hardly angels. They have no moral scruples, no regard at all for what is right and what is wrong, what matters is reward and punishment. They embody the true spirit of Machiavellian concept: _the ends justify the means._

They are, in a word, dangerous.

It is a good thing, then, that they are given short limbs and puny muscles and primitive brains. If God had given them something else, they might well have taken over the earth.

And so it was that two children, Yamanaka Ino and Haruno Sakura, with short limbs, puny muscles, and primitive brains, found themselves at the threshold of a gargantuan manor instead of the president's office inside the United Nations building.

They were on the brink of committing a heinous crime – _breaking and entering_.

If they were adults, they might as well have spent the next thirty years of their insignificant lives behind forbidding steel bars. But no, they were _children_. And that made them all the more dangerous. The law was on their side.

At the end of the day, they might find themselves confined in their rooms with all their stuffed toys and dolls, ordered to 'think about what they had done' when, if there was any justice in this lonely planet, they should really be in a room devoid of windows, sitting on lone rickety chairs, handcuffed, half-bald, with a razor poised over what remained of their hair.

But if there was anything that this planet lacked, it was justice… and perhaps awesome rings like that of Saturn, but that was a different matter altogether.

Besides, punishment, for these two would-be criminals, was something that they could easily avoid—

"If we're very very careful, Sakura-chan. So try to be really really quiet, okay?"

And with the latter's nervous nod, the two children engraved their guilt in stone.

The one called 'Sakura-chan' was really but a mere accomplice. She was the brainier of the two, but she was, in no way, the 'brains' of the operation. She was timid, with no confidence to speak of, and therefore, in the world of children, labeled as 'follower'.

Yamanaka Ino, on the other hand, who knew only half of the words that Sakura-chan did but was armed with a smile that could charm a snake, was a 'leader'.

But both leader and follower consented to committing the crime and they were determined to succeed. They had a mission – an important one. The grown-ups were being tight-lipped about _something_. And in their malicious child-brains, they decided that they, too, had a right to know.

It did not matter that they would be adding insult to injury by invading the privacy of another poor (but probably evil) child who was on the throes of grief. It did not matter that two nosy kids were the last things that the grieving child needed. It did not matter that they were making light of a murder that caused the said child to be orphaned at the ripe age of eight. It did not matter that they were being horribly, horribly insensitive – after all, they were _children_.

It did matter, however, that their mothers told them _never_ to come near that particular house because it was "haunted" – and in their primitive child-brains, that meant that the house was the stuff of fairy tales. After all, the word _did_ appear quite a number of times in their story books, even if it did often come with a foreboding picture of a scary-looking house and a green-skinned witch.

Perhaps this was a chance for them to _really _become princesses. And they were fully armed too (with pots on their heads and swimming goggles over their eyes) so they weren't scared.

Besides, they were kept inside their houses for weeks on end, their parents all claiming that it was _dangerous_ to go outside with that "kira" on the loose. They got _bored. _And that the grownups were communicating with each other in hushed whispers, strangled gasps, and knowing 'tsks' only frustrated them more. _They had a right to know too_, for Bob's sake.

And it was with this self-righteous anger (and Yamanaka Ino's insistent prodding) that Sakura-chan found the courage within her to turn the knob.

The door, heavy and obviously made of expensive things, gave a creak of protest as it was opened by the vile little child. She stepped inside, further solidifying her status as 'criminal'. She surveyed the scene in front of her, noting with awe the majestic staircase across the hall – but not because of the architecture. No, her mouth watered because she knew that they could use the banisters as slides.

She turned, intending to tell her leader and best friend that the coast was clear. But the said girl was nowhere to be found.

With panic rising in her little throat, her heart ta-thumping against her little chest, she gave out a small whimper. She was in _big_ trouble… and unlike Yamanaka Ino, Haruno Sakura actually knew what 'haunted house' meant. It meant ghosts and witches and, according to her dad, a devalued property that, with proper care, a brand spanking new paint job, and ignorant but rich immigrants, might mean a landfall for any smart real-estate agent.

"Get out."

She turned around to face the ghost, her anti-ghost magic rod (_a.k.a. broom with mother's angel figurine taped to the tip_) on the ready. Ino had warned her about moments like this. All she had to do was say, "The power of Christ compels you!" (_with feelings_) and whack the ghost on the head with her rod and it would be 'banished'.

So she did.

And when that didn't work, she tried plan B.

That is, she let out an ear-splitting shriek and ran.

A few minutes later, safe from the ghost under the cover of thick foliage, her 'armor' discarded, and nursing a bruised knee, Haruno Sakura found herself cursing the deserter, a.k.a, Yamanaka Ino. That she had serious 'trust' issues ever since that day was a different story, as was the fact that their friendship probably survived only because neither of them ever cared to mention the incident afterwards.

What mattered was that her mom's _favorite _figurine (though why little kids in stories like this always tended to ruin their parent's favorite things, she didn't know) was now kaput with the angel's head severed and one of its legs missing. She had a feeling that she would look the same way once her mom found out about what she had been doing.

For a ghost, that guy surely had a hard head. Weren't ghosts supposed to be transparent and wispy and eathe-ethe-earth-real?

Though, now that she thought about it, that guy was rather handsome for a ghost too.

But it did not matter – a ghost was a ghost and… he sure sounded mean… sad, too… for that matter… she felt kinda sorry for him. But she was a _child, _and ultimately, she felt sorrier for herself. Her mom was going to throw a fit once she realized that her favorite figurine had been beheaded.

So saying (or thinking, anyway), she took one last look at the porch and the door and the big house, and headed for home with a heavy heart, unaware that a boy with hair and eyes as black as soot was watching her discreetly from the window.

* * *

><p>'The cosmic balance of the universe' – those were the only words to which she could attribute what was happening to her to. Well, she could also use the word 'karma'… but cosmic balance sounded cooler.<p>

There she was, standing on the porch of a very familiar house, exactly like the first time. Except that she was thirteen (she tried not to think of it as an unlucky number) years older. Also, she was no longer standing with her deserter best friend, but with the love of her life. She also knew more words than she used to and could pronounce 'ethereal' without breaking a sweat. Simply put, she had grown.

Oh, and she was also drenched. They were supposed to go to her husband's ancestral house (to live there in marital bliss) but it started storming and after uttering an irritated 'damn' at the rapidly diminishing visibility on the streets, her husband had turned left, then right, left, right, then left again, and stopped in front of the big house. Then, he got out. She assumed that he was only looking for shelter. After all, it was unsafe to go on driving through a stormy weather.

If she was only a bit more observant, she might have noticed that they passed through a decent-looking motel on the way to the big house. But she was not. So absorbed was she in her dreams of consummating their marriage that she failed to notice that something fishy was going on.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the gargantuan mansion – and for the first time, she noticed that the passage of time had given it a more 'haunted' look.

But now that she was older (and much kinder, if not a bit perverted) and she knew that ghosts couldn't be banished by angel figurines tied to a broomstick (salt might work, though), she felt rather silly for doing what she did back then.

In fact, she would've deemed it a perfectly funny (and slightly romantic, in a comedic sort of way) story to tell the "love of her life", if only…

"Sasuke-kun, can you stop playing with that? It's bothering me."

With an eerie smile, the love of her life caught the head of a figurine as it descended and clutched it in his fist… tightly.

"Of course, Sakura."

She looked at him for a few long seconds, perturbed that he was acting quite oddly. In fact, in their eight years of knowing each other (the first three of which she spent pathetically pining for him while he rudely fended her off with sharp but uncreative and boringly repetitive barbs; the next two, she spent convincing herself she had had enough of him while he belatedly grew hormones and started noticing her and her apparent lack of interest; then for one year, he disappeared without a trace, giving her an emotional breakdown and a rude awakening on the fact that she still cared. He came back, changed and a bit subdued, and life went on. And the last two years were spent in an odd something-more-than-friends relationship with him before he finally popped the question, _unromantically_, seemingly out of thin air. Of course, being the pathetic sod that she was, she agreed.)—Ah where was she? Apparently, she got lost in the parenthesis. Anyway, in their eight years of knowing each other, this was undoubtedly the first time she had seen him act this way.

Still smiling, her husband reached out and turned the knob, opened the door for her, and gestured for her to step inside.

She was sure that there was a time that she thought his smirk was sexy. Now, though, she only thought it was downright creepy. Oh, wait, no – his smirk was sexy, not his smile, never his smile, Sasuke didn't have a smile, after all. So what was this she was seeing? An upturned variation of a frown? Well, that was more "Sasuke-ish" than a smile, so yes, it probably was an upturned frown. Sighing, she decided that she had better have that talk about the priest about what 'in sickness and in health' encompassed and if mental illnesses were included in its scope – whether it was his brain or hers that was impaired, she wasn't really sure.

Nonetheless, she stepped in, ignoring her irrational – what else could they be? – thoughts. Sasuke stepped in after her and spoke.

"Welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring."

"Err… Sasuke-kun… I'll just ignore that Dracula quote… okay?"

Her husband only smiled, or rather, frowned upside down in response, that same creepy-and-not-at-all-sexy smi—er, upside down frown he gave earlier, and turned to lock the door.

Then realization sunk in.

"W-wait. Your house? _Your_ _house? _This", waving her arms around frantically as she gestured at the wide and ornately decorated foyer, "is your house?"

"Yes. Didn't I say that we were going to my ancestral home?"

Sakura tried not to regret her 'I do', but the fear was beginning to gnaw on her.

'How often was it again that young wives of handsome but rich eccentrics ended up mutilated and discarded on a bushy roadside? Would she be a… a statistic? Oh God, what if she was in a poorly written ghost story?', were the questions that raced inside Sakura's mind as she heard the ominous sound of the lock clicking in place.

She watched, disturbed, as her husband slid a key into his breast pocket.

"It's not a regular lock," she stated, noting the lack of the familiar push-button-thingy that was present in most doorknobs.

"It's an old house" her husband said plainly as he removed his gray trench coat.

She was about to make another comment about the lock when the lights, two expensive-looking crystalline chandeliers decked with wispy cobwebs, were turned on suddenly.

She jumped, thoroughly startled. But when she noticed that her husband wasn't the least bit surprised by the lights going on suddenly, she gave out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, so your old house's lock is primitive, but your lights are operated by remote control?"

"No."

"There's somebody else here then?"

"No."

"Oh."

She looked around worriedly, unsure of what to think, she wanted to point out the illogical nature of her husband's answers, but Sasuke was moving towards the staircase.

"H-hey, wait up! Where are you—"

The boy turned halfway towards her, stuffing his hands into his pockets and flashing her a sexy smirk, the same one she fell in love with.

"Don't you want to consummate our marriage?"

Her insides, brain included, promptly turned to mush at his words and she came bounding after him without a second thought.

* * *

><p>Glorious – that was one word she could describe their coupling as. There was also dreamy, mind-blowing, magnificent, earth-shattering, wonderful, heavenly, out-of-this-world, resplendent, divine, oh and there was also phenomenal. She could go on, really, but she doubted that she had enough words despite her much-improved vocabulary.<p>

Suffice it to say that she was happy with how her husband performed in the marital bed. Of course, she shouldn't have expected anything less. This was _the_ Uchiha Sasuke, after all. He was barely-suppressed-passion-hidden-underneath-a-cool-exterior personified.

She mewled contentedly and shifted in their enormous bed (What was the next size after king-sized, anyway? God, being with him made her feel like a lowly peasant.), basking in the afterglow of their coupling.

His arm was draped around her loosely and she could tell from his deep and even breathing that he was already asleep. She, however, was far from sleepy. But she was rather thirsty, and the sound of the rain pounding against the large windows was—

A bolt of lightning lit up the sky, revealing to her for a few seconds the world outside her room, and also the dark outline of a man crouched outside the window, one hand pressed against the glass.

She screamed in abject terror, but her voice was muffled by the sound of thunder rolling.

Almost to the point of panic, she tried to nudge her husband awake. Sasuke, however, merely grunted and looked at her with a sleepy eye.

"Sasuke, Sauke-kun, there's a man outside the window!"

"There isn't anyone there, Sakura, go back to sleep."

"But—but, I saw him, Sasuke-kun. He's outside the window and—"

Her husband only sighed tiredly and spoke in an irritated tone.

"We're on the fourth floor, Sakura. It's storming outside. There's no possible way for a man to be outside our window. Now go back to sleep."

"But—"

"Go back to sleep", Sasuke repeated with a tone of finality.

"I guess you're right," she muttered quietly, deciding to believe in her husband's words. They did make a lot of sense, after all. And sure enough, when lightning flashed once more, albeit weaker this time, she looked at the spot where she had seen the figure, and there was nothing there, "'twas probably just the trees."

Of course, she should have checked the whole window, especially the upper part. After all, mysterious figures don't necessarily stay stationary, especially if they're real.

She really had poor observation skills, which was why she was in a dire situation (but she didn't know that yet). It was also due to her poor observation skills that she failed to notice that there actually _was_ a figure outside of her window, clutching to the flat surface like a lizard, with both hands pressed against the glass and legs bent at an odd angle. More interestingly, she failed to see that it was peering down at them with interest.

* * *

><p><em>Kill it.<em>

_Mother!_

_Fugaku… Fugaku, please…_

_Kill it, I tell you—_

_Get her out of here! Get. Mother. Out. Of. Here._

_Kill it! Spawn of Satan—_

_No—_

_Kill it!_

_Fugaku…_

_Kill the child now or it will destroy us all!_

_Just get her out of here, damn it! Mikoto, Mikoto, don't listen to her, shhhh.._

_Kill the child!_

_Someone get her out of here!_

_Please, Fugaku, it hurts, so much, plea—_

A scream, shrill, blood-curdling, abject terror condensed.

"Sakura, Sakura, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

She opened her eyes, trying to control her breathing. Slowly, the concerned face of Sasuke slid into focus and she tried to remember where she was and why he was beside her. It took a moment for the memory of their marriage to register, what with the sound of the woman's scream still ringing in her head – or was it her own scream, she didn't know.

"I—I—Sasuke-kun, it was—"

"It wasn't real. Now go back to sleep."

Her husband then promptly rolled to his side of the bed and went back to sleep. Trying to stifle her annoyance at his callousness, Sakura huffed and stood up since simply 'going back to sleep' was certainly out of the question. She was far too shaken by that nightmare, especially since she was the type who rarely had nightmares at all.

She walked over to the door at the far corner of the room, the one leading to the bathroom.

She wanted to wash her face, hoping the cool water would calm her nerves and get rid of that faint sliver of sleepiness that still clung to her distraught brain. But the moment she stepped into the bathroom and took in the gigantic bathtub on the far side of the room, all thoughts of simply washing her face drifted away.

The large tub was fit for a princess. And she, Haruno Sakura, whose modest middle-class upbringing ensured that her last memory of being able to actually stretch out in a bathtub was when she was 11 years old, decided that she would indulge herself, and treat herself as the princess she had always secretly wanted to be.

Humming to the tune of 'Someday my Prince will Come', she walked over to the tub and opened the three faucets, wincing at the grating sound of disuse they made. As it was, one of the faucets made a coughing regurgitating noise before spurting water, rusty water. She watched as the tainted fluid made its way down the drain, and she was oddly reminded of the blood she spit out whenever she lost a tooth during her teenage years.

Shaking her head, she dismissed the morbid thought, plugged the drain, and let the tub fill up. The warm water was creating a nice mist, she noted, rubbing her hands in anticipation of the luxurious bath she was about to have. She looked at the faucets again and, satisfied that nothing was amiss, she walked to the cabinets near the sink to see if there was a nice bottle of bubble bath waiting for her.

There was none. There was, however, a wonderful but dusty jar of rose petals. And in Sakura's princess-y mindset, petals worked quite nicely to create a 'royal' atmosphere. Barely containing a girlish giggle of glee, she discarded her sleeping gown and took the white terry cotton robe that was hanging on a hook. At first she thought it was Sasuke's, but when she put it on, she was surprised to see that it fit snugly. She would gladly chalk it down as a sweet gesture from her husband, but as it was, she simply could not believe that Sasuke would actually do something remotely romantic.

Her brows furrowed in confusion and in an irrationally jealous suspicion, Sakura walked over to the tub. But no further thoughts were spared to the robe's mysterious origin when she saw how nicely the tub had filled up, with the mist swirling over its surface. She sat down on the tub's thick rim and set the jar of petals down beside her. Smiling softly, she dragged her fingers over the water slowly and elegantly (like a princess!, her mind had quipped). The mist dispersed at the intrusion, revealing – much to Sakura's horror – a bloated corpse.

Of course, she screamed. Loudly.

She also fell on her butt – something which was awfully un-princess-like, sprawled as she was in an unflattering position. But in Sakura's current state of mind, she could not seem to bring herself to care. Ignoring the way her behind was smarting, she stood up and, being the brave girl she was, checked the tub for the corpse. She was _sure_ that she saw _something_. But then again, there was nothing inside the tub, so, ever so logical, she decided that it probably was her imagination. The dream probably made her brain hyperactive or something.

She did not have the time to make any more theories about what she saw as the door suddenly flew open and in came a bedraggled Sasuke.

Oh dear, she didn't wake him up with her scream _again_, did she?

She groaned, not at all liking the idea of Sasuke thinking he had married a complete nutcase. She opened her mouth to apologize, but when she saw the look of anguish that crossed his face as he looked at her feet, she followed his gaze and gasped.

Dismally, she bent to stem the bleeding on her foot. Apparently, she had knocked the jar over and it crashed to the floor, scattering the petals all over the bathroom floor. As it was, the red petals were getting lost in the red of her blood.

"Shit.", she cursed, annoyed that her plan to treat herself like a princess for once was ruined. Sasuke had knelt in front of her. But she was too distraught over the pain on her foot to realize that he had picked up a single bloody petal.

"_These_—"

She looked up at the sound of his disdainful tone, surprised. He had not used that tone on her since those first rocky years of their relationship – or rather, those first years of her pestering him for dates and walks.

"—were my mother's."

"I—I'm sor—", she started, feeling guilty about what she had accidentally done, but then he cut her off, not allowing her to finish her apology.

"Next time, don't snoop around."

Angry, she sent him an icy glare. But her effort was wasted, as he had already turned his back and left. The bastard had not even cared about her _bloody_ _bleeding_ _foot_! And besides, this was her home now, and she had every right to—wait.

Did he just say that the jar of petals belonged to his mother?

If memory served her right, his mother had been dead for thirteen years. But if that was so, then why were the petals – the rose petals scattered on the floor – so fresh they could have been plucked yesterday?

She briefly considered the possibility of another woman, but somehow, she couldn't make herself believe that perfectly logical explanation. Which was a pity, really, because even if it would have been painful for him to have someone else, then at least it would have been logical and she wouldn't be here, scared out of her wits.

She looked at the floor again.

Heavy and sodden with her blood, the red rose petals looked mortifying.

* * *

><p>Her hands were stained with blood—and for a moment, she pretended that she was a mass murderer who got off on cannibalizing babies sautéed in rose petals. But, oh who was she kidding? The blood was hers and the rose petals were the <em>mysteriously<em> fresh ones that her husband's mother supposedly owned. She was nowhere near as cool or even as interesting as a cannibal. She was just plain old Haruno Sakura – newlywed and neglected, with an injured, but properly (and expertly!) bound, foot – and she had to wash her hands.

There was no way she was going to wash it inside _that_ scary bathroom, though. For all she knew, the faucets could very well start dripping blood like some horrible cliché horror story. Not that it would matter if it dropped blood, anyway, because really, her hands were already bloody – very bloody. But then the whole 'washing of hands' thing would be counterproductive… and spooky, even if it was a bit cliché.

So really, she needed another bathroom.

That was what sent her into the halls of the mansion, her elbows – because, really, it was a shame to get the beautiful thing dirty – on an intricately designed doorknob. It should have been difficult, but after opening half a dozen or so different doors with her elbows on the horribly long hallway (because, really, all the doorknobs were pretty), she had mastered the act right down to an art. After all, she was Haruno Sakura, and she was, if anything, a fast learner. Or maybe she just had a knack for opening doors with her elbows.

Finally, after another successful attempt on opening a door with her elbow, she had found what she was looking for – a bathroom. She then proceeded to step inside but was stopped in her tracks by a _vision._

For a few seconds, she just stood there and stared at Sasuke's form through the semi-transparent glass door of the shower. It took a few more seconds for her to remember that Sasuke was her _husband_ and that they were _newlyweds_. And wasn't it the most "newlywed" thing to do to sneak into the shower with him and maybe have a bit of… fun?

But as she was about to step forward to commence with her plans, the object of her affection slapped one palm against the glass – one bloody palm. And she meant _bloody_ literally, not in the bad-word sense. His bloody fingers had stained the glass with obscene strips of red.

Her mind told her that maybe he was hurt. Her instinct told her to run. And from her experience, the latter was far more reliable. So she bolted, or rather, limped as fast as her injured foot would take her.

She was about halfway to their room when he caught up with her, grabbing her elbow. Sakura looked at where his hand met her skin, expecting to find blood. But there wasn't any. There was water, as his hand was still moist, but there was nothing else. Confused, she turned to look at his face, but then she felt him take her hand in his – quite a rare occurrence; one wherein, had the circumstances been different, she would have internally squealed in glee. It was too late, but still, she looked at their joined hands and saw what she expected to see – blood, pale and diluted.

Whether it came from her stained hands or his, she couldn't be sure, not anymore.

She couldn't even be sure about what she saw in that bathroom anymore. Was it, perhaps, her imagination acting up again? Was she having hallucinations again?

_Am I—_

Any further thoughts were suppressed when he lifted their entwined hands and placed her palm on his cheek, staining it lightly with the grotesque substance. Transfixed, she looked at him as he gazed at her with an unreadable but intense expression – one that was pleading and predatory at the same time.

But the moment was fleeting, and it was gone before she could dwell on it.

"Come on, you need to wash your hands."

His voice was husky, bereft of its usual smoothness. But if he was shaken, then so was she, probably even more so. And all Sakura could really do was nod and follow him noiselessly into their room.

* * *

><p><em>What do we do, Fugaku?<em>

_Fugaku, it's _him. He _did it. _

_Fugaku?_

_Please, don't ignore me. Fugaku. Tell me what to do._

_You know what to do, Mikoto._

_But he's just a boy. He's our boy._

_Exactly. That's why it's our duty. It's best to do it now before—_

"—Before what? Tell me!"

"Sakura, wake up. You're talking in your sleep."

"H-huh?"

"You were talking in your sleep."

Comprehension dawned slowly, the curtain of confusion gradually lifting and making Sakura realize how silly she must have been. Her cheeks reddened when she saw her husband looking at her with a lazy smirk.

"Must you be so weird?", Sasuke playfully teased.

And when he leaned over for a sweet kiss, the witty retort that was on the tip of Sakura's tongue promptly disappeared.

It is probably a newlywed's prerogative to stay in bed all day. Sasuke and Sakura, however, seemed to have abused that privilege. As it was, Sakura emerged from their bedroom well past the time for afternoon tea.

Sasuke stayed behind, having already succumbed to the lure of slumber. He had argued that the sound of the rainstorm outside made him sleepy and that she'd have to excuse him while he snoozed off.

That was all well and good for Sakura, who was looking for a place where she could have a long and private chat with her best friend.

Giggling as she dialed her friend's number on her mobile phone, Sakura slipped into an empty room. As she waited for her friend to pick up the phone, she took her time to examine her surroundings. The room was spacious but very spare. The only piece of furniture that could be found was a heavy oak table. There were other objects atop the table, but they were covered by a dusty white cloth. Beside the table was a large wooden cross. It was obviously meant to be hung on a wall. But instead, it was merely propped up on the table's side, hiding its front from view. Sakura stepped forward, intent on examining the items further. But then Ino picked up.

"Hello?"

"Ino!"

"Sakura! Oh my God, it's you! Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to call? Here I was thinking that maybe Sasuke was a psychopath – he does fit the bill, you know, with all that broody perfection – and that you became his poor, poor victim!"

Sakura had nothing to say to that. For one, there might have been some truth to what Ino said. Strange things have certainly been happening. And for all she knew, she could very well be a victim, or a potential one, anyway.

"Sakura? Hello? Are you there? Why is it so noisy there?"

"Wha—huh? Ino, it's not—"

"Are you in a temple? I can barely hear you above the din of all that chanting—"

Outside, a bolt of lightning lit up the sky and illuminated the room.

Sakura jumped, startled when the sound of something heavy crashing to floor coincided with the rumble of thunder that followed the flash of lightning.

That "something heavy" turned out to be the crucifix. It was now lying on the floor, its front exposed. Sakura could see strip-like dents on its wooden surface, deep scratches that looked like they were made by human hands, a child's hands.

"Ino?"

Nobody answered.

"Ino, are you there?"

Still, there was no response. Her initial shock dispersing and turning into outright fear, Sakura forced herself to take a few calming breaths. Somehow, she knew, there really _was_ something going on. There was something in the pregnant silence of the stately old house, something hidden, something sinister, something _evil._

"Ino? Please answer."

But to her disappointment, there really was no answer. She took her phone and looked at it. Grimly, she noted that the signal was completely gone.

The rain really started pouring then. She could hear the storm intensifying.

Again, there was a flash of lightning.

"Sakura?"

She whirled around to face her husband, but from the side of her eye, she saw someone else – a woman, with long black hair, wearing a pristine white dress. Sakura blinked and looked again to the place where she saw the woman, but it was empty.

"Sakura? Are you okay? You look a bit pale."

"I—I'm okay, Sasuke-kun. I—"

"Come on, let's go back to bed. And don't wander off."

"Sorry, I—"

She didn't get to finish her apology again, as he was out of the door faster than she could blink. Sighing, she glanced one more time at the spot where she could have sworn she saw someone, and seeing that it was empty, sullenly followed her husband out of the room.

**TBC. Someday. I hope.**


	2. Hogwarts

**Author's Notes: **I always wanted to do a Harry Potter-verse Naruto fic and this half-baked thing was the product. XD I hope to finish it someday. Really. And Hogwarts isn't really the title. I still don't have a proper title for it, so there. Warning, some NaruSaku. But this will end as SasuSaku, if I do get around to finishing it.

**Disclaimer: **Naruto's not mine.

**Hogwarts**

**First Year**

Excitement courses through him as he catches his first glimpse of the gargantuan castle from the compartment window; but he conceals it well, hides it beneath a veneer of indifference.

After all, his brother is not pressing his nose to the frosted glass to catch a better view of the majestic sight, and – Sasuke reasons as he steals a glance at the Prefect badge gleaming proudly on Itachi's school robes – neither should he.

So he sits still, and tries not to fidget.

An Uchiha should always be dignified, and he already has a lot to live up to as it is – maybe too much.

Next year, that Prefect badge on his brother's chest would no doubt be a Head Boy badge. But he, Sasuke, is still _nothing, _still _nobody_ but the great Itachi's little brother_. _

In fact, he is not yet even sure if he would make it into the Slytherin House as everybody in his family expects him to; and the thought of being the first non-Slytherin Uchiha sends ripples of anxiety through him, causing him to exhale loudly – a sound too close to a sigh for comfort, and entirely unwelcome. He cannot show weakness, he cannot—

"Let me tell you a secret, Sasuke."

Sasuke leans forward then, because despite his budding resentment at his brother's tendency to always be one step ahead, he is still always eager to hear what the man has to say, and even more eager now that he knows that it is a secret.

"I was supposed to be in Hufflepuff."

He throws the chocolate frog at his brother before he can catch himself, and Sasuke winces, momentarily ashamed by his own childish actions. But even more than his shame is his annoyance. How could Itachi dare to make such a tasteless joke in a moment like this? How could—

"I'm not lying, Sasuke", Itachi says then, letting out a carefree chuckle as he nonchalantly wipes the chocolate stains from his previously impeccable robes, "I had to beg the hat to put me in Slytherin."

"You're joking", he deadpans.

"I'm not. I told it father would beat me up if I was put in Hufflepuff."

Sasuke's eyes widen as he realizes that maybe his brother really isn't lying.

"In the end, the only reason the hat put me in Slytherin was because I came from a very pure bloodline and because I practically begged it to."

At first, he does not know how to react, but then his brother smiles conspiratorially, and Sasuke cannot help but smile back, already treasuring a secret that he would surely take to his grave.

"Who knows, you might be the first Uchiha to end up in Gryffindor. You're certainly brave enough."

The subtle praise is not lost to Sasuke, and he is inordinately pleased by it. But he thinks that acknowledging it would be awkward, so he keeps his gratitude to himself and gives a retort that convinces Itachi of where his little brother really belongs.

"With those idiotic jocks? Never!"

"Ah, but little Sasuke, those remarks do not bode well for _interhouse unity_. As a prefect, I'm going to have to admonish you."

Itachi pokes him on the forehead and Sasuke lets out a little yelp of protest, pleased that they are the only two people in the compartment and that nobody had to see that affectionate but embarrassing display.

"But I have to say, with a mindset like that, you'll fit in perfectly at the Slytherin house."

The vote of confidence from his brother makes all the anxiety evaporate from the younger one's mind, and later that day, when he sits on the stool in front of the student body of Hogwarts, the sorting hat fit snugly in his head, Sasuke feels every bit as arrogant as he looks.

In the end, he finds out that he doesn't have to reason with the hat at all.

He is a true Uchiha.

Ambitious. Cunning. Determined.

Power-hungry.

_Slytherin._

**Second Year**

He barely hears the raucous cheering of the crowd, barely feels the congratulatory pats on the back his teammates are giving him, barely even notices the small golden ball that is still struggling to escape from his grip.

Uchiha Sasuke's attention is focused solely on the blonde boy standing dejectedly at the opposite end of the field.

The Gryffindor Seeker, _his rival_.

"Oi deadlast," he calls as he pushes past the sea of green.

It is ironic that, just a year ago, he would have given anything to be one of them, to be accepted in Slytherin. Now, he considers himself above them all, thinks of them as mere irritants. And who can blame him? They fall at his feet with adoration, perhaps even more so than they do for his brother; because he, Uchiha Sasuke, is about as 'Slytherin' as one can get.

The boy may be conceited, arrogant, and self-centered. He may be an utter prat for ignoring them constantly, dismissing them as _nothing_, but his fellow Slytherins can forgive that.

After all, scholarly Uchiha Itachi may be Head Boy; but Uchiha Sasuke is at the top of his class too, and a Quidditch player to boot.

He will go far.

And they worship him.

But to Sasuke, their 'worship' matters not. Right now, he wants nothing more than to gloat, to rub salt on his opponent's wound, to _hurt_ – because, really, how _dare_ the boy even think of Sasuke as his equal.

"Deadlast!"

The golden-haired boy in the scarlet Quidditch robes tries valiantly to ignore him, his fellow teammates urging him not to respond, to just 'walk away', telling him that _'it's not worth it'_. But Sasuke would not be deterred.

"Naruto!", he says as he throws the small ball in his hand at the direction of the boy, sneering as it makes a solid 'thunk' the moment it hits the back of the boy's head.

"Bastard!", the boy finally growls, much to Sasuke's delight, and charges at him like a bull seeing red.

Sasuke braces himself for the upcoming brawl, gleeful in his anticipation, relishing the thought of pounding the other boy into submission.

He does not draw his wand, because Naruto doesn't either – though he suspects that the boy has only forgotten to do so. Wizards who grow up in muggle neighborhoods tend to do that. Either way, if the boy wants to fight with his fists, then Sasuke will gladly oblige.

Sasuke does not know where this cruelty comes from, and why it is directed at Naruto, but he does not really care, so he never asks.

He raises his fist as the boy draws near, intending to hit him straight in the face, maybe even break the said boy's nose.

Before it can connect, however, he feels his whole body freezing. A surge of panic assaults him as he thinks that Naruto will surely hit him now, but then he sees that the other boy is frozen too, and it doesn't take much for him to put two and two together.

Sure enough, it is his brother's familiar voice that he hears next.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for Naruto's rash behavior."

Sasuke hears a cry of protest rise from the ranks of the Gryffindors, the words 'unfair' and 'unjust' hanging in the air. The Slytherins snigger condescendingly, assured that they have the upper hand.

But as he is released from the spell, Sasuke thinks that they are stupid – all of them, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike.

_Itachi_, he thinks scathingly, _is nothing but fair._

Sure enough, the punishment he expects is delivered, and it hurts more than he cares to admit.

"—and forty points from Slytherin for Sasuke's pettiness."

Not because of the loss – he couldn't care less about his house and the school's inept point system – but because of the disappointment in his brother's tone.

"This behavior is unacceptable, Sasuke. Father will know about this."

However, the gloom is quickly replaced by anger, and quite a bit of apprehension, as Itachi moves closer to him, speaking in a voice low enough that only the two of them may hear.

"What's happening to you?"

**Third Year**

He can barely stand people, though he does not exactly know why.

He knows, in part, that it is because the relationship between him and his father couldn't be more frayed.

He mostly holds Itachi responsible for this… but deep inside, he knows that he has only himself to blame.

He is frustrated, and he mostly takes his frustration out on Naruto, taunting the boy at each opportunity, goading him into fights, laughing at him for straggling behind in class, for losing at Quidditch.

He suspects that he is only trying to make Naruto as miserable as he is.

Because, by all rights, Naruto _should_ be.

He has no parents. His mother was a werewolf. Most of the student body shuns him. He is not intelligent. He is not talented.

But then again, he is not unhappy.

And this is perhaps what bothers – _angers – _Sasuke the most.

Because while Naruto has been shunned by the student body, he is still friendly and they are slowly warming up to him.

Sasuke's behavior, on the other hand, has caused several people, even those from his own house, those who used to adore him, to keep their distance.

Naruto may have no parents, but he never knew what it was like to have them anyway, so it does not seem to bother the said boy much.

Sasuke, on the other hand, does have parents, both of them alive and well. But they only have eyes for Itachi.

Lastly, Naruto may not be the sharpest tool on the shed; and he cannot, for the life of him, transfigure a toad into a proper pin cushion, but here he is in the library, being tutored by Sakura Haruno – and didn't she use to like him? Him and not Naruto? – and the boy is laughing and _learning_ and—

"Naruto, you stupid oaf!"

-and he is everything that Sasuke has always envisioned himself to be.

Happy. Content. _Loved_.

Instead, Sasuke sits at the opposite end of the hall, _suffering, _hoping that the sound of his teeth gritting against each other isn't as loud as he thinks it is, trying to shut out Sakura's voice, to ignore the fond tone in which she admonishes the blonde.

Naruto has succeeded in making a pin cushion that croaks and hops – and Sakura, for some reason, thinks that this is the most amusing thing in the world. Really, for a Ravenclaw, Sasuke thought that she might have a more advanced sense of humor. But really, this—

-this is just pathetic.

He almost groans, knowing that he's no longer thinking about Sakura, but about himself.

He's pathetic.

He's disgusting.

He's—

A small, forlorn sigh alerts him to another presence in the library – inconspicuous Hinata Hyuuga, a Hufflepuff, the first Hyuuga to not make it into the Slytherin House. He has often heard Neji, a fourth year and the girl's cousin, speak derisively about the girl, calling her "a blight upon the Hyuuga name". Sasuke himself thinks that Neji is a pompous ass, but he knows enough to dismiss the girl as someone worthless.

But right now, he can't help but feel a pang of pity for her.

She, too, is watching Naruto and Sakura, though her gaze is mostly on the boy.

Sasuke recognizes the look on her face as jealousy.

And briefly, he wonders if that's how he looks like as well.

**TBC. I hope.**


	3. I Spy

**Author's Notes: **I'm a SasuSakuSai fan, what can I say? XD Anyway, this little bit was supposedly written as a challenge fic buuuuuuuut I obviously failed the challenge.. so there. x.x This was written about two years ago when we were still writing FT, so yeah, old stuff.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto

**I Spy**

"I spy with my little eye… something GREEN!"

"There! A tree!"

"I spy with my little eye … something GREEN!"

"That shrub… that shrub!"

Sasuke rolled his eyes at the sheer stupidity of the game his two classmates were playing. Seriously, they should be ashamed of themselves. They were seniors now, for crying out loud. They should act more maturely. He slumped in his seat, wishing that he hadn't forgotten to bring his I-pod. It would've at least drowned out the noise.

Deep inside, he was cursing the bus for being a cheap four-seater, cursing the driver for being an ancient slow-poke, and cursing God for forsaking him. Really, going on a stupid tour was bad enough, but having the dobe as his seatmate and traveling companion… no… just no. He should've been seated with—

"I spy with my little eye … something HARD!"

Sasuke sunk further into his seat, greatly annoyed at the deadpan voice of the one who just decided to join the game. He _loathed_ the guy. Why did that transfer student have to stick with their posse, anyway? He would never admit it, but he greatly disliked the fact that Naruto and Sakura found a new friend during the year he was away as an exchange student. It was awkward… besides, the guy was too 'comfortable' with—

"Sai… that's a rather vague clue, give us more clues…"

He grit his teeth, annoyed at Sakura's shrill whine, conveniently neglecting the fact that Sakura didn't really whine.

"Alright, I spy something… HARD and LONG…"

…and the guy's innuendos, really… and his fashion sense… seriously, the guy's existence was a shameful indecency, he should be—

"NARUTO? WHY THE HELL ARE YOU POINTING AT MY—"

He was about to punch the daylights out of his friend when he saw Sakura flapping her arms frantically.

"It's that pipeline! It's that pipeline!"

He winced at the shrillness of her voice and automatically covered his ears to save his eardrums. Seriously, how could this get any worse?

"Wrong, ugly, it was Sasuke-kun's—"

Before he could do any real damage though, Sakura had her shoved her tour itinerary into his mouth.

"Seriously, you guys, this is not the best time to do this. We're going on a tour, to Osaka Castle! This is, like, my dream come true! If you guys mess this up for me…", she said, her voice low and dangerous, cracking her knuckles for added effect.

That shut them up.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence. They all knew that Sakura could certainly make good with her promises. Oh, but he wasn't afraid. No, he wasn't afraid. He just didn't want to go through all the discomfort of having a raging female annoy him constantly. It was… annoying. Besides, he already had to go through the whole mess once a month, he didn't want to suffer any more than he had to. Besides, if he had to 'tolerate' her even more, he'd have to retaliate. She was already getting too many concessions as it was.

"Alright kids, we'll be arriving in Osaka Castle shortly. Will you guys please keep quiet? Group yourselves into pairs. Each one will be responsible for his or her buddy, so make sure you stay together. Quiet! We'll be doing a headcount and roll call now, with each student saying his own name as well as that of his or her buddy."

The students were so noisy that he could barely hear the teacher over the ruckus. He tried, but after a while, he figured it was just an announcement that they would arrive soon. Thinking it was insignificant, he paid it no heed, choosing instead to stare out the window and think of how he could outdo his brother. Really, how did Itachi get so much better than him at Tekken without much practice? Maybe he was getting some practice at Shisui's place. The guy has all the best consoles man could—

"Pair Fourteen! Uzumaki Naruto and Uchiha Sasuke."

Wait… what? Why did Naruto just—

"Pair Fifteen… Haruno Sakura and… er.. Sai."

WHAT?

"Oi, Naruto, what is this all about?", he hissed, sounding a lot angrier than was warranted.

His seatmate seemed surprised at the sudden outburst, "Eh? Weren't you listening Teme? Sensei told us to choose a buddy and—"

"Who said I wanted to be yours?" he said, immediately regretting it when he saw the look of hurt that briefly crossed his best friend's features.

"Then who else will you partner with, Teme? Lee? He's the only one available." Naruto answered with a leer, gesturing to the boy with the bowl-shaped haircut in the back seat. Sasuke turned to look at the said boy who, upon seeing someone looking at him, flashed a much too bright smile and gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Sasuke grimaced, thoroughly disgusted, before turning back to his seatmate.

"No—no! Of course not, it's just that—"

"Then don't complain, you're lucky someone picked an extremely stuck-up bastard like you", Sasuke bristled at the insult but made no retort. He knew exactly when one of his comments went too far. And this one of those times.

He didn't mean it, really. He was just… surprised. Yeah, he was just surprised. That's all. Why did Sakura—

"Naruto, where's that Ino girl?"

"Sick."

Sasuke knew from the tone of his friend's voice that he was still a bit miffed about the comment made earlier.

"Hn. I didn't mean it."

He hated having to apologize. But an apology was absolutely essential if he wanted Naruto's cooperation.

Apparently, though, the said boy was still dissatisfied, judging from the cocked eyebrow and the obviously fake expression of confusion plastered on his face.

"About earlier, I didn't mean it."

Naruto nodded, accepting the poor excuse for an apology that his friend offered.

"I know that, Teme, we both know I'm the only one who can stand you."

"…"

Sometimes, he just really hated his best friend.

"Anyway, why'd you ask about Ino?", Sasuke immediately regretted asking upon seeing the sly look on Naruto's face. It did not bode well. No, it did not bode well at all.

"No reason.", he answered, trying to find a way to evade the question. Naruto opened his mouth, about to press for an answer when, lucky for Sasuke, the bus stopped.

The teacher made a short announcement about proper manners and decorum and about the time in which they should be back. The students didn't even wait for the teacher to finish, as they all started pushing and shoving each other, obviously very excited to get outside.

Naruto was already standing up, apparently willing to join the crowd. "Let's wait for the others to leave first, Naruto."

Naruto gave a small pout but moved to comply anyway. Sasuke ignored him, and shifted in his seat to look out the window. He would've preferred to stay in the bus but—

"Stand up. Hurry, Naruto. Move, move!"

"Geez, Teme, make up your—ah!"

What Naruto didn't see was Sakura dragging an apathetic Sai to the castle. But Sasuke saw it – oh, he saw it alright. _Their fingers were intertwined._

"Come on, we need to hurry."

"What's the rush, I thought you didn't want to—"

"Just shut up and go", said Sasuke irately. Sasuke had almost shoved his friend off the bus when Naruto suddenly turned to him, a possibly lethal Cheshire grin plastered on his face.

"It's Sakura-chan and Sai-teme, isn't it?"

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not!"

"Yes, it is!"

"No, it's not. Naruto, this is childish. I don't like Sakura!"

When Naruto's grin only widened, Sasuke knew he made a big mistake.

"Oh, nobody said anything about you _liking_ Sakura-chan."

Sasuke looked at him pointedly, trying to look as intimidating as possible.

"I _don't_ like her, okay?" he bit out.

"Whatever you say, teme, whatever you say", Naruto said, his smug grin still in place. So his intimidation tactics didn't work. "They're getting away though, so if we're gonna stalk them, we better hurry."

Sasuke decided it was best not to give a reply. After all, he _was_ getting what he wanted. Arguing with an idiot would be unproductive. It would be quite counterproductive, actually. Naruto could postulate all he wanted, it didn't matter. Sasuke _knew_ was that he _didn't_ like-like Sakura anyway. He was only making sure that that Sai-guy wasn't going to try something… funny. The guy was a pervert, after all, what with all his penis-jokes. There was no way he could be trusted.

**TBC. Not Really.**


	4. Orphanage

**Author's Notes: ** A Kakashi-centric Team 7 Fic with a dash of SasuSaku. I actually just wrote this the other day, but I doubt I'll be able to finish it so I'm throwing it into this collection.

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own Naruto

**The Orphanage**

In a small village west of the capital city, there is an orphanage.

It is run by an ex-soldier. He is nothing noble, nothing righteous, nothing heroic; just lucky enough to survive the war, and only so because a friend sacrificed his life for him.

In a way, the orphanage is his penance.

He never particularly liked kids. In fact, he finds them downright tedious. But Obito liked them and dreamed once of making an orphanage for the "lost angels", and it helps ease his mind a bit to know that even though Obito died, his dream still lives on through the man he saved.

Never mind that he does not particularly enjoy what he is doing.

That does not matter, because Kakashi would choose boredom over guilt any day.

There are some days, however, when he feels it anyway – all that guilt.

"Hey, we're out of ramen!"

"Shut it, dobe."

Not because of Obito, but because of the children. He wonders, if he had a little more interest in his job, a little more heart, would he have found homes for all of them?

"What did you say, Teme?"

"Just shut up. I'm not in the mood, Naruto."

"You're always 'not in the mood', Mr. Doom and Gloom."

"Whatever. Kakashi, I'm leaving. I won't be back until tonight."

"Hey-hey, where are you going, Teme?"

"Out."

"Alright, Sasuke, just be careful, and try to bring some sugar when you come back."

"Hey, Sasuke, wait up, are you going to visit Sakura-chan? I wanna go too—"

Nearly sixteen and still living in an orphanage – it's something tragic.

Kakashi finds it ironic, that the two children who needed homes the most would end up unpicked.

Naruto had never known a family. Kakashi found him wandering the streets, picking pockets and stealing food. The boy had no idea where he came from, and no idea where he would go. He was a nice enough kid, perhaps overly rowdy and a bit too optimistic, but he had whisker-like scars on his face that made prospective parents skip him when the children fell in line for what they called "choosing time".

Kakashi watched, year after year, as the light in Naruto's eyes died after each disappointment. The boy did not know what he was doing wrong. He smiled as big as could, put more effort into scrubbing his face and brushing his teeth, each time new foster parents came visiting, but they never seemed to look his way.

Eventually, Naruto started to pretend that he didn't care and fell into the role of prankster just to prove his point. But Kakashi still saw him give a little extra attention to hygiene when the foster parents came calling, even though he knew they were there for the younger ones.

Kakashi thinks that Naruto, out of all the children in the orphanage, past and present, would have made the best son. There's this light in him that people can't seem to see. He's the type of person who would grow on you, if you only stick around him long enough. It's funny that the foster parents are missing out on a child with so much potential – except it's not, not really, because the thought of Naruto never knowing a family is too tragic to be funny.

Sasuke, on the other hand, knows exactly what it feels like to have a family. In fact, Kakashi thinks, he knows it too well. He came from a well-off and influential family. His father, Fugaku Uchiha, was one of the Generals who fought in the war alongside Konoha, except not really, because he was also instigator of a coup d'état that was erased from the history books. His mother, Mikoto Uchiha, was a member of the nobility. His brother, Itachi Uchiha, had been the government's tool. A conspiracy had ultimately led to the murder of the Uchiha family by the hands of the eldest son, something that had been necessary to preserve peace. It was a gruesome story, horrible even amidst all the stories that had come from that war-torn era, and Sasuke was its product. The boy was eight years old when it happened, old enough to remember, old enough to feel.

Unlike Naruto, Sasuke has never had a problem getting chosen. Even as a child, he was always marked by his good looks. Prospective parents would always pick him, remarking on how lucky they were to have found the boy. And always, he would be returned to the orphanage, the reasons varying from half-hearted excuses to downright outrage.

"It's such a big regret, Kakashi, but I'm afraid we can't afford to raise a child, after all, our finances—"

"Kakashi-san, we decided that we'd like a girl instead."

"He doesn't seem to like us, Hatake-san. We've tried our best to get him to like us. Really, we have."

"He just can't adapt, Kakashi…"

"He's an ingrate, Kakashi. I've never known a more stubborn boy."

"That boy is a rotten egg, a devil if I've ever seen one!"

Kakashi never knew what Sasuke did to dissuade his foster parents, and he never asked. He just accepted it without question, and Sasuke would simply go back to that bunk reserved for him. The other kids knew better than to occupy it, even during those times that the parents could stand him for more than a month before they simply gave up and returned him to the orphanage.

Sasuke wore tragedy around him like a cloak, and he never let anyone in. He lived in the past, wallowed in it, chained himself to it. It wasn't that he didn't want a family. It was just that he didn't want a new one. Sasuke wanted his old family back – lies, skeletons in the closet, and all – and if that was such a hopeless wish, then so be it.

Eventually, he just grew too old to be adopted and, like Naruto, he became a fixture in the orphanage.

Kakashi thinks that Sasuke reminds him a bit of himself – slightly masochistic.

They allow themselves to be chained down by something.

For Sasuke, it's that red and white fan that was their family's coat of arms. For him, it's this orphanage.

**TBC. Or not.**


	5. Rain

**Author's Notes: **Ever started to write something only to realize you're in over your head? Well, this fic is a product of one of those incidents. I forgot the plot halfway through, so yeah.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto

**Rain**

**I.**

They say that if it rains on the day of someone's funeral, it means that the person's soul is in turmoil.

Sasuke Uchiha – soaked to the bone in cold, unforgiving rainwater – thinks that this is probably true.

After all, how could his father possibly rest in the afterlife when it was his own son that pulled the trigger of the gun that killed him?

To his side, Sasuke can feel his mother trembling – because of the cold or of bereavement, he isn't entirely sure.

And he thinks – morbidly, shamefully – that it will probably rain on _her_ funeral too.

The death of his father – strong and unassailable General Fugaku Uchiha – had imprinted upon Sasuke: the concept of mortality. Everything in the world suddenly became fragile, temporary, and unreliable. Rendered in this dark and bitter shade, the eight year old boy can only see the earth as a hostile place, evil and putrid, full of hatred and grief and pain.

The past is a lie, which once was so illustrious and colorful; now, it was just a collection of photographs in sepia, bathed in blood. And, his supposed to be open and boundless future is bleak, narrow and one-tracked.

Sasuke Uchiha has only one path to take.

Revenge.

This moment – his father's body descending into a six-foot deep hole, his mother quivering like a leaf under an unrelenting downpour – is what shapes his psyche for years to come. He will never forget what Itachi did to his family. In fact, he makes sure that he will not forget. So he breathes it in, files it away in his brain, to be recalled and remembered every single day so that his hatred, his anger would build up and make him strong.

Not for the first time, and definitely not the last, Sasuke curses that_ bastard – _he no longer has a _brother_, never again_ -_ and whatever demon it was that compelled him to do such a condemnable thing. He wonders what the motive was, the purpose, the reason, why, why,_ why—_

A sharp, piercing wail jolts him back to reality; and Sasuke becomes aware once again of his mother beside him, once so dignified and composed, now falling apart at the seams. He wants to put an arm around her to console her, but he is weak with anguish, rendered immobile by his loss, and he finds it impossible to draw strength from one who no longer has any. So he stays still and does not do anything.

He notices, belatedly and almost indifferently, the pain in his hands, the red rose's thorns digging into his palms.

His father's funeral is drawing to an end.

The synchronized sound of gunshots ring through the cemetery, superimposing with the sound of vengeance in Sasuke's brain. Point. Shoot. Kill. Someday. _Someday_. His hands practically itch with the thought.

Then, grimly, Sasuke, last of all, throws the crumpled flower into his father's grave, offering his blood and a promise along with it.

_Someday, father, I will kill Itachi._

**II.**

_All the king's horses and all the king's men…_

Sasuke recalls a nursery rhyme that his mother used to tell him back when he was still young. He had asked her to repeat it again and again until he, too, memorized the lines.

He could still remember her smiling benevolently as he recited the piece. He fumbled on the more difficult words, but she smiled nonetheless, then told him that he was the smartest boy in the whole world (not his brother, never his brother).

But that was a long time ago.

Today, things are different.

It is his mother's funeral.

And it is raining.

He isn't surprised at all by the weather's dismal state, but he can feel something inside him breaking as he watches the casket descend into the dark and damp hole. And nothing, _nothing,_ can stave off the drowning sensation.

…_couldn't put humpty together again._

**III.**

He is sixteen when he finds out that time can dull things.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the passage of days, weeks, months, and years chips away at his pain, weakening his resolve until it becomes nothing but a negligible itch.

He is a child-almost-an-adult; there are simply a lot of other more interesting things in life than revenge. And day by day, it's becoming more of a struggle to hold on to his determination.

Though the thought of revenge is never really far from the forefront of his mind, it feels routine now, almost like a troublesome chore. And, like every child with a chore, Sasuke finds himself susceptible to distraction.

He _forgets_ – and this is simply not acceptable.

His father's ghost has yet to rest.

So, at times, when he finds himself slipping into contentment – smirking, almost laughing, at Naruto's ridiculous antics, listening to Professor Kakashi's surprisingly potent words of wisdom, and going on 'study dates' with Sakura – he has to consciously remind himself of his goal. And this hurts a lot more than he ever lets on. Because it's one thing to not have an ounce of hope for happiness, and another thing entirely to have it within your grasp, but knowing that you cannot reach out and simply take it.

It definitely hurts a lot more, he thinks, than Sakura's inflamed foot.

Sasuke does not want to be a cold and unfeeling cad, but he simply _must_ be if he ever plans to accomplish his aims. He simply has no choice. No choice at all.

And when nosy little girls knock on his door and _insist_ on being allowed inside, he simply has no choice but to slam the said door in their faces.

Six girls have already tried visiting him – three from his school and another three from the neighboring ones – claiming to be 'in love with him'.

Annoying – the lot of them.

None of them, however, can ever come close to _Sakura Haruno_.

Sakura Haruno is the seventh. And she is a new breed of 'annoying'.

Most girls went away after the initial brush off. Still, some waited for the quintessential insult (and oh how sarcastic he had been, his words as sharp as blades). The more pushy ones waited until he finally slammed the door in their faces.

Not Sakura, however.

Sakura is the type of girl who never gives up. Why? Because she loves him. Truly, truly loves him, in much the same way that his mother loved his father. Before, it was just a silly crush, but somehow it became something more, probably brought on by the shaky friendship that they had developed through their mutual association with Naruto.

She loves him. Even he cannot deny this.

And she simply would not give up, no matter what he does.

"Sakura, just go away."

"No."

"I want to be alone."

"No you don't! You told me that—"

She would never give up on him… and that scares him, so he shuts her out, not because of anger but because of fear. He is vulnerable today, and he cannot have her close.

Just when he pushes the door closed, however, Sakura slides her foot into the doorway like a desperate salesman. But it is too late when Sasuke notices the small, dainty foot, too late to put it out of harm's way. And a millisecond later, all he hears is a pained howl.

Guilt – and quite a bit of annoyance – assaults him.

It's her fault for being so damn nosy, his rational mind tells him. But then there's a voice in his head – that sounds surprisingly like his mother – telling him that it's _wrong_ to treat a girl like this. So he opens the door and ushers the said girl in despite, quite ironically, her vehement protests.

He can see the glean of unshed tears in her eyes and he knows it hurts her to walk, so he picks her up and carries her into his living room (Shamefully, _shamefully, _he thinks of his bedroom, and he hates himself for it), making sure that he does so gently and carefully.

It is the only form of apology his pride can allow him to give.

"I'm okay, Sasuke-kun, really. It—I shouldn't have done that. It was a spur of the moment thing and—but I'll be okay now, I swear, I can just leave and—"

She's trying not to cry and hates her for doing so.

"Sakura," he cuts her off as he places her on the couch, "just shut up."

Ever the obedient could-be-might-be-wife, she does, but not before muttering a small 'sorry'.

Idly, he wonders if he should say sorry too, seeing as he _did_ injure her foot. But the word dies in his throat and he has to content himself with turning the foot from side to side and checking the extent of the damage.

It's not much, just a guilty red mark where the door hit it, but it's enough to make him wince and wish that she had fallen in love with someone else instead. Someone worthy.

Sakura Haruno and her injured foot are complications that he simply cannot have in his life. They're unwelcome, but that's not to say that they're unwanted. Not unwanted. Never that. In fact—

He pauses, recognizing the danger in such an admission, and considers sending her out, injured foot or no. But then she cups his cheek with her hand, and he can't help but close his eyes and lean into her touch as subtly as he can, greedily seeking her warmth, her concern, her love.

"You shouldn't be alone, Sasuke-kun. Not today of all days."

He'll have to refuse it all again later, hurting her and hurting himself in the process, but for now, he'll bask in what she has to offer and pretend that he has a choice.

"I'm used to it."

He is abhorred to hear how raspy his voice has become, how heavy it is with emotion.

"You don't have to be."

He looks at her then, sees that oh-so-tender expression on her face, and almost gives in; he leans into her, brushes his lips against the corner of hers, feather-light and—

The phone rings and he glances at the Caller ID, bile rising in his throat as he sees how foreboding the name on the small screen is.

_General Orochimaru_

Shakily, he disentangles himself from Sakura and picks up the receiver, bracing himself for the worst.

That day, Sasuke receives an offer he cannot – and will not – refuse.

**IV.**

He almost makes it out of the city without incident. _Almost_.

She catches up with him just as he makes it through the last metal detector. It comforts him that he is at a place where she can no longer follow, not if she wishes to stir up the airport security. Sakura is still in her school uniform, hair in disarray, panting from exhaustion, her head darting from side to side, looking frantically for him.

At first, he pretends that he did not see her and goes on his way.

But then she calls out to him, and he has to stop.

Just from the tone of her voice, he knows that she has something monumental to say.

But he also knows that he has to go on, ignore her – it's best for both of them, after all.

But he doesn't, _can't_, because he has never been the unselfish type. He wants, _needs_, to hear this. If only to have something to cling to for the long and arduous road ahead.

"Sakura, you should be at school."

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

He doesn't answer her, annoyed at the accusing tone in her voice. He doesn't owe her anything, he tells himself. But that's not really true, is it? He's lying to himself again – a horrible habit, but one he can't do without.

The truth is, he owes her a lot, and that's part of why he's leaving. He really can't afford to owe her more, because he does not have any means to pay. He's _completely_ spent – emotionally and spiritually dry.

"You're leaving and you weren't even going to say goodbye, and here I was thinking that I— we meant something to you—"

He deliberately keeps his back turned so that he won't have to see her face as he delivers a blow that will crush her.

"I apologize if any of my actions lead you to such a conclusion; such was not my intention, I assure you."

He said it much harshly than he intended and from the watery gasp that he heard from her, he knew that he had demolished the dam that held her tears in check.

"Don't be like this, Sasuke; I know that's not true."

"Sakura—" he says, injecting a warning tone into his voice.

"Sasuke, please, don't do this. Don't go, you know I—I—we, we'll be happy, Sasuke. Please, we were supposed to go to college together and—"

"I was _never_ supposed to go anywhere with you _or_ Naruto. From the start, I made it clear that I had goals. You knew that."

"But—"

"Last call for the passengers of Flight Number 595 boarding to Oto."

Sasuke walks forward then, beginning to leave, not waiting for Sakura to finish whatever it was she had to say.

"Oto? Oto! Sasuke, what the hell are you thinking? There's a civil war there and Sasuke, Sasuke, listen to me—Sasuke!"

He continues walking, refusing to heed her near hysterical shouting. She's drawing the attention of the people in the airport and he can't even begin to think how embarrassing this must be for her. He's slightly flattered that she would come all this way just for him, skip class and mar her perfect attendance, and that she would even go so far as to humiliate herself like this—but mostly he's just annoyed.

"Sasuke! Don't go! Please"

He can hear her sobbing earnestly now, and he takes a lot of his willpower to keep from turning around and comforting her. As it is, he keeps on going, trying to shut out her voice.

"I love you with all my heart!"

He stands still then, sated and scared, torn between hatred and gratitude.

"So please", she continues, voice low and weak, "don't go."

Briefly, Sasuke wonders if she knows just how difficult she makes things for him, then decides against it. She's—

"Sakura," he calls out as looks back at her over his shoulder, "you're annoying."

For a moment, she is stunned, and he takes this opportunity to walk away.

Later, standing at the bridge on the entrance of miserable town of Oto, he takes his phone and calls her.

She picks up almost immediately and he is met with a barrage of questions, accusations, and pleas.

For a while, he says nothing, content only to listen to her voice. Then, when she begins to cry, he speaks up.

"Sakura…"

He hears a sharp intake of breath on the other line as she stops talking, allowing him to speak.

"…Thank you."

He drops the call, not bothering to wait for a reply, then dumps the phone into the river, successfully severing his last link to the girl.

The phone falls with a dull splash, and he idly muses that it sounded sickeningly sounded a lot like solitude.

**TBC. Someday**


	6. Transcendence

**Author's Notes: **I want to make a Naruto/Ragnarok Online crossover even more so than I want a HP/Naruto one. O.o I tried, but again, it's unfinished. This is an angsty piece though, x.x

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto

**Transcendence**

Sunlight flittered in through the massive stained glass windows of the St. Caprina Abbey, splaying myriads of colors on the pale face of its sole occupant, an Assassin who was as out of place in the large bethel as a mouse in a nest of snakes.

Normally, those who chose to dwell in the darkness were unwelcome on Holy Ground; the sins that taint their profession frowned upon by men and women of the cloth. However, the circumstances that surrounded the man's presence warranted a rare exception, even accorded him some privacy from the monks that usually guarded the place.

The young woman whose lifeless body he cradled in his arms was the friend and protégé of the Head Monk, Lady Tsunade, who was gracious enough, albeit slightly reluctant, to grant him sanctuary.

It was, after all, the once vivacious girl's last wish to see him safe. Of course, this was a foolhardy request, as not even the thick walls of the secluded abbey could protect him from the clutches of the King of Midgard. But Tsunade was willing to acquiesce, just to give the frail priestess some semblance of peace as she breathed her last.

The Royal Guards would be upon him soon, and he knew he should be going if he still wanted to harbor some hope for escape. But somehow, he could not bring himself to leave her, at least not yet.

Foolish, really… to only realize his love for the girl when it was too late.

But he supposed he should have expected it.

After all, tragedy, to him, was a way of life, and his existence was punctuated mainly by disasters and deaths.

* * *

><p>Uchiha Sasuke was on his way home from a grueling day of training.<p>

He had spent the whole day killing the monsters in the outskirts of the Capital City, trying to get in as much practice so that he could be in top shape for the Swordsmen's Guild's Qualification Exam on the next day.

Of course, Porings and Caterpillars were hardly what anyone could rightly call 'monsters', and even for an eight year old novice of Sasuke's caliber, they were truly no challenge.

But Sasuke was smart enough to know that the real work would come later. For now, he just had to strengthen his endurance and to hone the most basic skills, and hope that they would be enough to get him through the guild's test.

After all, the sooner he became a swordsman, then the sooner he would become a Knight, just like his brother Itachi.

The thought sent a jolt of excitement through the boy and he quickened his pace, hoping to catch his brother at home so that he could regale the knight with stories about the day's adventures.

For the first time in his days as a novice, Sasuke joined a group for practice.

There was this blonde haired boy named Naruto who, despite being rather unknowledgeable in the didactic aspects of swordsmanship, was actually a natural at sword fighting.

Sasuke himself had a slight difficulty in bearing the weight of a longsword, but this boy did it effortlessly.

What Sasuke lacked in strength, however, he more than made up for in speed and strategy, so he and Naruto were more or less equal in terms of skill, though he would never admit it and would always insist that he himself was better.

They also had one more member in their group, a pink-haired girl named Sakura who was once her classmate in the academy and, quite unfortunately, had the unpleasant habit of asking him out on dates.

She said that she was training to become an acolyte. As such, she had inadequate strength and was therefore of little help to their group. In fact, she was mostly just a tag-along. He would have preferred to expel her unnecessary presence from the group but Naruto, who had already established himself as Sasuke's rival, was adamant in allowing her to stay.

That would have been okay, but the girl had the gall to keep him from attacking a bunny, claiming that the critter had done nothing to harm them _or_ the environment. Sasuke was thoroughly annoyed by her interference, especially since he had no qualms about killing the tiny creatures and had, in fact, been doing so since day one of his training.

He conceded, just so she would stop nagging him, and maybe because he somehow could not take her disappointment when all he had received since their days in the academy was her adoration. The knot in his stomach unraveled when she smiled at him because of his decision and afterwards, she took the bunny in as a pet and promised to take care of it.

The three of them separated shortly after that, with the promise of meeting each other again on the next day, once they finish with their respective qualifying tests. They would be a better team by then, more efficient and more in sync. They could even rise through the ranks together, building on each other's strengths and weaknesses.

What he couldn't understand, though, was why he had lost the taste for killing bunnies even after their group had disbanded for that day, hesitation creeping upon him each time he encountered one of the white bundles of fur. It was irrational, and it irked him more than he would admit. He was hoping that Itachi would have the answer to his dilemma.

What he didn't know, however, was that he had much bigger problems than simple hesitance to kill a certain creature.

That day, he found his parents dead on the floor, their blood soaking the ornate carpets of their stately Pronteran mansion, and his brother standing over them, holding the incriminating, damning sword in his red-stained hands.

* * *

><p>It was a typical day in the city of Morocc. The streets were teeming with people, so crowded that it was almost impossible to navigate through the maze of crowds. The sound of banter between enterprising merchants and their haggling clientele and the tinkling of coins exchanged was audible through the whisper of the desert wind. The scent of cooking hummus and <em>Shish Taouk<em> permeated the arid air, giving the atmosphere a tangy, spicy quality unique to the ancient city.

It was a captivating sight, really, one that could easily daze those unused to the large metropolis, drowning them in a sea of color and noise.

But one boy seemed immune to the overwhelming aura of the city, so focused was he on the task at hand that he hardly noticed anything else. In fact, his attention was so centered on the apple on the stall that he simply reached out and took it. As it was, the object was barely in his hands when he took off at a breakneck run, the Moroccan guards hot on his heels, having been alerted by the fruit vendor's outraged cries.

His size and his speed were a great advantage to him, however, and he managed to just barely make his escape, giving him ample time to find a hiding place within the grey stones of the gargantuan Pyramids.

Confident that he was alone, he took the apple from his pouch with shaking hands, unable to endure another minute of extreme hunger. He was about to bite into it when he heard someone speak.

"Hey, kid."

Startled, Sasuke dropped the apple, getting it covered in sand and grime. He quickly picked it up, shook it to discard the dust, and held it protectively against him, unwilling to relinquish the first meal he had managed to scrape up since he impulsively left the city of Prontera to chase after his brother, jumping at the portal from which his brother vanished despite not knowing where it led.

The man chuckled as he emerged from the shadows, revealing white hair and bespectacled brown eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm not taking that from you."

Sasuke eyed him warily, still not loosening his hold on the piece of fruit.

"My name's Kabuto. What's yours?"

He hesitated before answering, still mistrustful, and even then only gave his first name.

"Listen, Sasuke, how 'bout I interest you in a job?"

"What kind of job?"

"Thievery."

Sasuke stiffened at the word, suddenly remembering that he should have been inducted into the ranks of the noble swordsmen just a day prior. A proud member of the noble family of Uchiha turning into a wretched thief – the mere thought of it was almost blasphemous.

"I saw you take that apple, and I've got to say, for a greenhorn, you're pretty impressive."

Sasuke kept silent, unconvinced and very wary.

"The Thief Guild will take care of you, and you won't have to go hungry. We'll even train you so that you won't make such blatant mistakes as the one you made earlier."

Kabuto smirked at this, and held out his hand.

"So what do you say?"

Sasuke stayed unmoving.

"You've got nothing to lose."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, before the terse silence was broken by the grumbling of Sasuke's stomach, making Kabuto give a bark of a laugh as he reached out and clasped the boy's hand in his, sealing the deal.

* * *

><p>The deeper parts of the Sograt desert were mostly left alone by most of the people in Midgard, the dust storms surrounding it usually serving as a proper deterrent for any curious travelers.<p>

And yet, that was where Uchiha Sasuke and his companion, a boy named Suigetsu who was about three, maybe four, years his senior, with a shock of white hair and a peculiar set of sharp, uneven teeth, found themselves headed to on one particular evening.

The desert was much cooler than it was during the day, but certainly no less turbulent. The wind was whipping about them, blowing the sand against their hunched forms, making it almost impossible for them to trudge through the dunes.

But they both knew that they had to persevere.

There was simply no turning back now.

They were leaving the thief guild.

And if they couldn't become assassins, then they might as well be dead, for Orochimaru, their snake-obsessed, megalomaniac of a guild master, would surely hunt them down.

"The winds are getting worse, Sasuke. We should find cover", shouted Suigetsu over the din of the whistling wind.

Sasuke would have preferred to go on, but he knew that it was more or less futile to hope that they could. They would certainly get buried by the sand if they even tried.

His companion was right; they would need to find cover and just wait until the storm broke.

They continued to walk some more until they came upon an abandoned temple. It was almost invisible against the backdrop of the dull brown desert sand, but it was as good a shelter as any, and they knew that it would be a good place to stay until it was safe to move on again.

Once inside, Suigetsu immediately collapsed against the wall and let out a huge sigh of relief, utterly exhausted from all their traveling.

Sasuke, though he too was tired, was not as carefree. He looked around the desolate building, making sure that nobody else was there and that no booby traps were set. He was about to check the walls when Suigetsu spoke.

"Oi, Sasuke, lighten up. Rest, for crying out loud, we've been walking for hours. There's nobody here but us."

Sasuke took one last look at the room and decided to follow his companion's advice. He sat; legs crossed, on the floor, and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall.

"This was once a temple for the old religion, you know", Suigetsu began conversationally, "Morocc was once the center of worship for the great god, Thanatos."

He paused, as if waiting for a reaction from the raven haired boy, who seemed intent upon ignoring him. Undeterred by his companion's indifference, Suigetsu went on.

"And this powerful god, Thanatos kicked some serious ass on this monster called 'Morroc', saving the people from the monster's wrath."

Sasuke glanced at Suigetsu then, a fine brow raised in question, a haughty 'and your point is?' left unsaid.

"It's just that, according to those batty old women in the bazaar, Morocc Castle is built directly above the monster's tomb. They say that Thanatos didn't really kill it, that it's still alive, biding its time underneath the city, waiting to be called upon by its master."

Still, Sasuke remained unfazed, offering no input whatsoever in the pathetically one-sided conversation.

"You don't have to pretend that you've heard this all before, Sasuke, so you can stop trying to look uninterested. All the local kids may know this story, but it's obvious that you're not a local."

Uchiha Sasuke froze then, the hilt of his dagger clutched tightly in his hand, unsure of what to do about the new development. Suigetsu was never one for making insinuations like this, so this one truly took him by surprise. One thing was for sure, though, he couldn't lie through this one. So, taking a gamble, he opted for the direct approach. He fixed a glare on his companion and spoke, trying his best to sound intimidating.

"Who told you that?"

"Geez, lighten up, will ya?"

But Sasuke did not move, nor did he loosen his grip on his weapon. But if Suigetsu was the least bit intimidated, then he certainly didn't show it, as he nonchalantly took a swig of water from his goatskin canteen.

"Nobody told me anything. It's pretty obvious that you're not from around here. You have pale skin and you talk like one of those stuck-up nobles. In fact, I'd wager you were pretty rich once – before tragedy struck, of course. Else, you wouldn't be here in this run-down temple, hiding away like a desert rat."

In the wake of Sasuke's continued silence, Suigetsu merely sighed and went on talking.

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I promise not to tell anyone. Not that they wouldn't notice, though. Like I said, it's pretty obvious. Besides, it's no big deal; you're not the only one with a past. I'm not originally from Morocc either."

Sasuke looked at Suigetsu for a long time. Then, deciding that the boy truly meant no harm, he relaxed and once again leaned against the wall.

"Judging from your earlier reaction, though, I'm thinking that your childhood is a taboo topic."

The dark-haired boy tensed at that, unpleasant memories unwittingly dredged up.

"Don't worry, I won't be asking you to tell me your life story. But I _am_ in the mood to tell mine. So what about it, Sasuke, will ya listen? I'm dying of boredom here, and your reticence isn't exactly helping."

"Hn."

The other boy took this as a sign to continue, and thus launched into a narrative about his life.

"So… I hail from sea-side city of Alberta", began the boy, his hand gesturing exaggeratedly towards the general direction of East, "my father was a fisherman and my mother was a hunter from Payon. She was on her way to the newly discovered sunken ship, located just a little off the city's shore, but she needed a boat for her expedition, and the captain of the ferry was a dirty extortionist-"

Later that day, as they were preparing to set out once more on their journey, Sasuke could not help but ask.

"—and so that was why I ended up in Morocc. Those archers in Payon were just too damn stuffy – and to think my dad wanted me to be one of them; absurd, eh? They call themselves hunters and yet they refuse to harm—"

"Why are you telling this?"

"—the stupid little furba—huh?"

"Your story."

"Oh. That."

Suigetsu looked at him contemplatively, as if deciding whether or not to grace him with an answer, but then he shrugged as he strapped his dagger onto his belt.

"I just like hearing myself speak."

Sasuke heard the dismissive tone in Suigetsu voice, knowing that there was something left unsaid. But even so, he decided not to pry. But then he was aptly surprised when the said boy spoke once more, several minutes after, as if he greatly deliberated on whether or not he would speak the truth.

"Besides, I figured that if I were to die on the Assassin Guild's test, then at least someone would know that I existed, even if it is just a snobby bastard like you."

Briefly, Sasuke wondered if he should tell his story too, just to qualify his existence. But then he decided against it.

He would not die on the test.

He couldn't die.

Not yet.

He didn't have that luxury.

**TBC. I really really hope so.**


	7. Uchiwa

**Author's Notes: **Written a veeery long time ago. Discarded because of, uh, lack of imagination. I wanted to do some sort of Spirited Away-ish story, with the Uchiha District as the, uh, scary place. But yeah… I'm not very good at finishing things…

**Disclaimer: **Naruto's not mine.

**Uchiwa**

"There is undoubtedly something wrong with a woman who would choose to spend her first vacation in three years in a backwater town that has never even heard of plumbing. Besides, what if you find yourself in the middle of a strange town horror story, huh? What then? They're going to offer you up as a virgin—no, don't deny it—sacrifice in some stone altar and I'm never going to see you again!"

Sakura smiled indulgently at her best friend's misplaced concern. Ino had a tendency to exaggerate and go into hysterics at the slightest things, but she was a good friend nonetheless, not to mention her longest friend. They have known each other since their kindergarten days and their friendship successfully survived the rough road called 'adolescence' and emerged into what it is now: tried and tested, solid and true.

"Ino, you know this matters a lot to me."

She could hear Ino's halfhearted sigh at the other line and could not help but let out a little giggle. The girl would concede soon enough. Besides, it wasn't like there was anything else she could do. Sakura was already halfway to her destination – a small town on the boundaries of the Fire Country called 'Uchiwa'.

"Yes, yes, I know, I know, you've always wanted to be a historian and all that crap – but come on, Sakura, if you really love history, then you can always go to- to- to places like the Hokage Mountain or you can visit the Konoha Museum or—"

"Been there, done that… besides, that type of history has already been, well, 'discovered', so to speak. I want something new, something—"

"And so you're going to follow this silly hunch you had when you were studying elementary history. I mean, come on, Sakura, you've always been a weird girl, but this is too weird, even for you."

"Hey, I happen to be following a pretty good hunch. The Senju and the Uchiha are the founders of Konoha, and yet all we see in museums and exhibits are remnants of the Senju. Even in politics, all we get are the descendants of Hashirama Senju, hell, some politicians even build their whole career on that. We never ever hear of guys boasting that they're descendants of Uchiha Madara. You even agreed that it was pretty fishy. It's like the Uchiha disappeared into thin air at some point. It's almost like someone's covering something up. And I fully believe that Uchiwa, due to its name, is a great place to start if you want to find out anything about the lost clan, for obvious reasons."

Ino was quiet on the other end and Sakura wondered if her friend was finally seeing the sense in her words – that is, until Ino spoke once more, quickly disappointing her.

"Sakura, have you become one of those crazy conspiracy theorists? Because if you have, you better tell me. I'm your best friend and I have the right to know."

She opened her mouth to argue with Ino but was quickly stopped by a playful laugh.

"I'm just kidding, Billboard Brow. Fine, go, have fun – whatever your definition of fun is, because it's certainly not the same as mine. Later tonight, I'm going to be partying while you, dear Sakura, are going to be stuck in a stuffy room in the middle of nowhere."

"I'm going to follow my dreams, Ino-pig, there's nothing better than that!"

"Yeah yeah, whatever… hey you better come home quick because you promised to go shopping with me before we resume work. And take good care of yourself! I don't want you to come home in a coffin with your head severed and buried in a ditch! Anyway, I gotta go, my date's here, bye Sakura! Take care okay?"

Sakura could not help but grin at her friend's morbid humor, already missing her despite the fact that they just saw each other yesterday.

"Thanks Ino. Take care of yourself too. Bye."

Closing her flip phone, Sakura sighed and looked out of the window and stared dismally at the rolling hills, disconcerted by the absence of the city's familiar gray profile in the distance.

In truth, she had no idea what awaited her at the small town of Uchiwa. In fact, the confidence she exuded when speaking to Ino about her little adventure was all just bravado. Deep inside, she really wasn't quite so sure.

* * *

><p>"This is the last time I'm warning you…"<p>

Sakura shook her head, wondering if she should just turn tail and run. Things had taken a turn for the absurd, becoming far too similar to a cliché horror story than comfort allowed.

"Go _away."_

The man, a pale and lanky male with dark hair that stuck out at the back, seemingly in his twenties and wearing a traditional hakama, had enunciated each word with harsh emphasis and Sakura could not help but flinch at his severe tone. He glared fixedly at her with cold black eyes, making Sakura shrink back even more. She had never met such an intense person before, and he – along with his caustic words – was certainly creeping her out.

"This is not an empty threat, miss. The townspeople don't take too kindly to outsiders. You're not likely to find accommodation here, no matter how much you're willing to pay."

"Look, mister, even if I wanted to, I simply couldn't. Not right now, anyway. The next bus won't be around until Saturday. I'm stuck, and frankly, I'm at a loss on what to do as well. I had expected Uchiwa to be small, but I had not counted on there being no inns whatsoever."

She hadn't meant to sound so irritable, but the predicament she found herself in was chipping at what little confidence she held in her little endeavor. Sakura simply did not know what to do. Ever since she was barred from entering the town by this disagreeable man who called himself the Town Guard, she found herself more and more unable to take the stress of being forced into an undesirable position, making her question whether it eally was wise to pursue this 'dream' of hers.

The man sighed, not bothering to hide his irritation.

"I'm sorry, okay. But I'm out of options. I'm going to take my chances with the town and hope that not all the people there are as reticent to help someone out as you said they were."

She walked past him, heading in the general direction of the town, only to be surprised when an unexpectedly cold hand gripped her wrist.

"No. Just—You can stay, okay? I'll let you stay at my house. Just promise me you'll be out of the town as soon as the next bus arrives and promise me you won't _ever_ leave the house as soon as the clock turns five."

The last part was sounded particularly ominous, and it scared her more than she'd like to admit. She wondered if she could trust this young man. She might be walking into some psycho's den, for all she knew. Logic told her to decline the offer, but his eyes seemed genuine, and Sakura soon found himself nodding in agreement.

"Thank you."

"Hn."

"My name's Sakura, by the way."

The man seemed to hesitate for a few seconds. He looked at her pensievely, as if studying her, and Sakura could not help but squirm under his scrutiny. Finally, just as she opened her mouth to ask him if something was wrong, he spoke.

"Sasuke. My name's Sasuke."

"It's nice to meet you, Sasuke-kun."

She didn't know where the honorific had come from. People in the city hardly used them, and she had picked up the same habit after a few months of living there.

But at the moment, it certainly seemed like the most natural thing in the world to say it.

_Sasuke-kun._

It sounded right.

"It's nice to meet you too, _Sakura_."

And maybe she was just being presumptuous, but she could have sworn she saw something in him change as he said her name. It wasn't just that his voice had suddenly gone hoarse. It was in his eyes – there was a flicker of _something_ there. Sorrow, a deep pain, and – but it was gone before she could tell, and Sakura had to dismiss it as her imagination's folly.

Nonetheless, she felt herself smile as she followed him to his home, the excitement for her mission rushing back in waves as she neared the quaint little town.

**TBC. Though I doubt it.**


	8. Untitled

**Author's Notes: **Another attempt at SasuSakuSai, though mostly SasuSaku. Brain failed me again, so yeah.

**Disclaimer: **Naruto's Not Mine.

**Untitled**

_Is this love, is this love, is this love that I'm feeling? Yes it's lo—_

The radio was abruptly turned off by the sole occupant of the empty art studio, annoyance at the song pressing him to do so with unnecessary haste. He loved Bob Marley's 'Is this Love' as much as the next guy did and could, in fact, do a decent job of singing along on most days. But right now, the sheer irony of the song's lyrics was wreaking havoc on his already volatile emotional state, and Sai was simply in no mood to play the masochist.

He knew it was inevitable. He knew that, despite the severely limited range of his emotions, he would someday fall in love. He just did not know, did not have any way of anticipating, that his feelings would eventually settle on the girl he always called 'ugly'.

It was, in a word, ironic. Perhaps he would have even thought the situation funny, had God decided to play the joke on someone other than himself. As it was, he had to content himself with bemoaning his pitiful fate.

After all, what else could you call being the hopeless latecomer to a complicated love triangle? Love triangle? Who was he kidding? At this point, what _they_ had was a love pretzel. So convoluted was the relationship map of his social circle that he had long since given up on disentangling it. He was happy – proud, even – to be a mere observer of all the insanity.

But now he had to go and fall in love with a slip of a girl who wasn't even _that_ pretty in the first place, subsequently hurling himself right into the middle of all the mayhem.

Oh but love had a way of turning green eyes into _emerald eyes,_ of making tooth deformities _endearing, _of making hair seem _soft and silky_.

Problem was, they – those _emerald eyes, endearing teeth, and silky hair_ – already belonged to someone else, someone who did not, could not, appreciate them.

Uchiha Sasuke, victim of a tragic past and owner of a bleak future, was the sole object of Haruno Sakura's affections. He was also Sai's number one obstacle to love.

But really, he _must _be insane if he was thinking about pitting himself against a decade-old crush-turned-love. Nothing – not even Sasuke's dreadful personality – could make Sakura's feelings waver, so what made him, Sai, think that he could, for even a single minute, make her forget about the cold-hearted cad she lovingly called _Sasuke-kun_?

He couldn't… he simply did not have a chance. He was stubborn, but Sakura was even more so. Besides, he had a feeling that Sasuke would not so easily relinquish his hold on the said girl. The boy did have feelings for Sakura, after all, though they were meticulously kept beneath a veneer of indifference.

His love was doomed to be tragically unrequited.

Ironically, it was Sakura's feelings for Sasuke that made Sai fall in love with her in the first place. Surely, surely, such devotion was bound to be rare, and he found himself wanting a piece of it, thinking, wondering what it would feel like if he had been in Sasuke's place.

It was ironic that the thing he loved about her in the first place was the very thing that ensured that she would never be his.

Hopefully, his feelings for her would eventually come to pass. Hopefully, he wasn't _like_ her. Hopefully, he wouldn't stubbornly cling to a hopeless romance. Hopefully, _hopefully._

Right now, though, he had to suffer through the feeling of having his eyes soften at the sight of her, of having his heart beat sporadically whenever she comes close, of having his gut twist at the sight of Uchiha Sasuke, a guy he never even particularly liked in the first place.

Worse, his infatuation was affecting his art. Had he not been agnostic, he would plead with God to – at the very least – spare his art. But no, here he was, reduced to painting disgustingly cliché cherry blossoms. He could be working on his magnum opus right now if he wasn't in such a sorry state of _infatuation._

Sighing, he decided to just give up, hoping that some fresh air would do him good, maybe even clear the chaos from his head for just a little while. He dropped his brush unceremoniously into the discolored jar, ran a pale hand through his hair, and walked out of the studio.

Outside, he raised an arm to shield himself from the glare of the high noon sun. Heat or no, though, he wanted – no, he needed – to get away from the stifling atmosphere of the art studio for a while; funny how it used to be where he felt most free.

He supposed that he needed to talk to someone, though he wasn't sure who. Sakura was his only confidant, and he sure as hell couldn't tell her. Asking her for advice would be tantamount to a confession – and that just wouldn't do. Not yet, anyway. He wasn't quite ready.

* * *

><p>Sakura frowned in displeasure as she watched him take out a cigarette from a crumpled, near-empty pack.<p>

"You said you'd quit", she says, not bothering to hide the accusation in her tone.

If she hoped for a response, however, she was sorely disappointed. Sasuke merely lit the cigarette and took a long puff, dragging it out as he studied her face. His scrutiny unnerved her and, as always, she ended up looking away. There would be no argument, she could tell just by his mood; and if Sasuke did not want to do something, there was simply no way to force him.

She did, however, notice that Sasuke made it a point to blow the smoke in the opposite direction, in such a way that it would not reach her. The considerate gesture – small and _never enough _– made her heart do little somersaults, even though she knew how utterly pathetic she was for feeling that way. Still, if she could say one thing about Sasuke, it's that he taught her to appreciate the little things.

"Anyway, Sasuke, I just want to remind you about the small gathering we'll have on the 28th."

She wondered if she should tell him that it's her birthday on the 28th. Then again, part of her – that insecure little girl who just wanted to be loved – was hoping that he would remember.

"I have a meeting on the 28th."

"Oh."

A wave of disappointment came over her, but Sakura recovered quickly. Disappointment was another thing that she had learned to get used to with Sasuke.

She also learned how to deal with him when he was in one of his 'moods'.

"What time? Maybe we can schedule the gathering after your meeting."

Sasuke looked exasperated and was no doubt swallowing a scathing retort when he spoke.

"Evening. I don't know what time it will end."

"Oh. Alright then. Please try your best to come though, Sasuke-kun. Naruto" _I—me, Sakura, _she wants to say but doesn't, "was so looking forward to your presence. It's been so long since the last time we hung out, us three."

"Hn."

The noncommittal grunt signaled the end of the conversation. Sakura knew that she had overstayed her welcome. Sasuke had work to do, she knew, and not even the bento which she lovingly prepared for him could justify her presence for anything more than an hour.

"Well, you must be busy with work. I'd best be going now", Sakura stood up slowly, reluctant to go and yet certain that it must be done, "See you on the 28th, Sasuke-kun. Bye!".

She could not help but add that last quip, hoping that he might just reconsider, knowing that he probably won't.

"I'll walk you to the hospital."

Before, Sakura would have protested, told him that it wasn't necessary, that she didn't want to trouble him. But they had been going through the same routine for the better part of a year now, and she knew that any of her protestations would be ineffectual and would, in fact, only serve to annoy him.

They would meet at the park for lunch, sit at their designated bench, eat, and finally, he would walk her back to the hospital, she would talk, and he would listen. This was their routine. This was their 'unnamed _something_'.

"What are we, really?" Sakura wanted to ask, but fear stayed her tongue, fear that he would say _nothing_.

* * *

><p>He watched her disappear into the morose edifice, wondering how she could even stand to work in such a depressing place. Then again, Sakura was always the most selfish and selfless person he knew. She was probably getting a personal high at the thought of being so vital to so many people.<p>

In fact, he sometimes resented her for it – that deadly combination of selfishness and selflessness. He felt like he was in much the same predicament as her patients. He needed her, but he wished he didn't.

Still, he did not have much time to dwell on the matter, for he was a busy man.

The Uchiha Corporation needed him. After all, his principle was always 'family first', even though said family was already in eternal repose. The corporation was pretty much all he had left of whatever familial ties he used to have. It was rightfully his, but due to his having missed the chance to claim it because he had been a minor when the _unfortunate incident_ occurred, Sasuke had to suffer through the whole process of Madara manhandling the system in order to gain ownership himself. Still, Sasuke fully intended to wrest the corporation from the hands of his megalomaniac uncle, even if the only way to do it meant being his uncle's pawn and working his way to the top.

He began his trek back to his office, mentally listing the tasks he still had to take care of once he got there. He quickly found the activity tedious, though, as there was something nagging at the back of his head. He wasn't quite sure what, but it was there, and it was persistent.

He took out another cigarette and lit it, taking comfort in the familiar heat that spread through his chest as he took the first puff. He noticed with disgust that he was feeling slightly guilty for smoking – yet another one of the little ways by which Sakura annoyingly intruded into his life; though he had to admit that part of him was happy that someone still cared for the health of his tar-filled lungs. The bad habit of smoking had been a leftover of his rebellious teenage years, an era in his life that ultimately led to his brother's untimely death; it was indirect, but he might as well have been the one who pulled the trigger, as not a single day went by that Sasuke did not blame himself for it.

Still, the cigarette reminded him of his clipped conversation with Sakura earlier and her roundabout way of inviting him to her birthday party. He had, admittedly, been in a bad mood and had unfairly taken it out on her. It was almost pathetic how she would simply not say outright that her birthday was on the 28th, almost as if she was willing him to affirm that, yes, he remembered. On one hand, it made him feel guilty that she had a deep-seated insecurity about her value to him – probably his fault, since he had always been remiss on reassuring her that he did consider her important; on the other hand, he was annoyed by her lack of straightforwardness and slightly angry that had he been someone else, like Naruto per se, she probably would not have hesitated to mention the importance of the said date.

Utter bastard that he was, the latter emotion won out; and he found himself depriving her of that much needed reassurance.

Besides, he really did have a meeting.

Sometimes, he worried that she would get tired of him. Sometimes, he became so afraid that she would leave him, that she would stop being his life's _only constant_, that he felt the urge to give in and surrender – to commit to her. Sasuke was not afraid of commitment. In fact, he relished it. Commitment gave him purpose.

But then, he already was committed to something else – a vendetta he could not, would not let go. He was afraid that, if he offered himself up for another lifetime role, he would be able to achieve neither. This fear was what kept him from completely giving himself up to the thought of a relationship – a family – with Sakura. This fear was what kept him immobile.

Besides, he always was a coward – as self-loathing as that sounded, Sasuke knew it was perfectly true.

Everything, even his "good" qualities – his determination, his intelligence – stemmed from cowardice… from fear of being left behind, fear of becoming a disappointment, fear of vulnerability… he knew that. He knew himself. He knew he was a coward.

Never, not once, did he claim to be brave.

He never claimed to be selfless either.

So instead of doing the decent thing, which would either be to let her go or to hold her close, he kept her at arm's length; just enough that he could still reach out and grab her should she choose to walk away.

* * *

><p>The end began with a scarf.<p>

Looking back, it was probably his absence at her birthday party that triggered it.

He had acted nonchalant and noncommittal when she invited him, but Sasuke actually had every intention to show up and had, in fact, picked out a nice albeit slightly generic gift – a simple silver necklace.

But then, their meeting – which should have only lasted for a maximum of two hours – had dragged on and on because Madara had this urge to talk about the most inane company issues. Sasuke could not count the number of times he glanced at his wrist watch.

Madara's words after the meeting proved that he was the biggest bastard in the world, and only served to make Sasuke hate him more.

"Oh, Sasuke, did you have somewhere you needed to be?"

There is nothing more that he'd want to do than to wipe that patronizing grin off his uncle's face, but there was somewhere he needed to be—

And then the clock chimed 12, and he thought – _stupidly, wrongly – _that she would understand.

The next day, around her neck was a scarf, not a necklace, and he felt this barely-there twinge that borders on the unpleasant.

The scarf – gray and woolly and not something Sakura would pick on her own – nagged at him like a persistent itch. He felt this insatiable need to ask, "Where? Who? Why?". But his pride prevented him from asking.

So he sulked.

And when she asked him if she could leave early because she had somewhere else she needed to be – _lessen our time with each other, forgo our traditional walk to the hospital, what is happening?, _he wanted to ask but didn't – he dismissed her with a wave of his hand and left before she could.

It is only later that day, when he found himself unable to concentrate on any of his work, that he realizes how he forgot to apologize for missing her birthday celebration.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC.<strong>


	9. Sonata

**Author's Notes: **I don't really remember writing this, to be honest… x.x So I can't say much about what sort of plot I wanted for it… I think it was one of those freewriting (but not really) attempts during the wee hours of the morning.

**Disclaimer: **Naruto's not mine.

**Sonata**

Her story begins in the middle of spring, with the trees in full bloom and the sky resplendent in blue. It is a cliché start to her own personal romance and normally not something she'd choose herself, but fate hardly gives her a choice.

It is a Wednesday, and she wants to practice the violin one last time before her recital on the next day. She assumes that the music room is empty, so she does not knock, does not announce her arrival, before opening the door. It is then that she accidentally walks in on him and sees him at the piano, playing a sad but beautiful song.

It is then that she first learns of love.

The feeling creeps up on her slowly, sweetly, like young and tender vines on a lonely, unadorned trellis. It scares her, but she does not deny that she is excited, almost giddy at the thought of falling.

It happens to all young girls in the brink of womanhood, Ino told her, and she has never expected to be an exception. She is just glad that the feeling has finally come, and for such a handsome young man too. There's relief in the feeling, a sense of belonging, but mostly there's a need to know _more_.

She wants to meet him, this boy playing the piano so skillfully, so artfully, so passionately. She wants him to see her. But as it is, she is too shy to make him notice her. So she settles for watching him, letting the notes of his song – a familiar classic, Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, perfectly executed and devoid of mistakes – engulf her, embrace her.

Hesitantly, with a little bit of shame, she indulges herself in a daydream.

She imagines that the tune is for her, and her alone.

It is a peaceful dream, one she easily loses herself in as she slowly closes her eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips and her hand unconsciously hovering over her heart protectively.

But then, as if in rebellion to her unwanted intrusion and her audacious imaginings, the boy slams his palms on the keyboard, and the beautiful melody abruptly collapses into one of chaos and confusion, echoing into the empty room like a silent scream.

She stifles a gasp and runs away, closing the door before he can see her.

Later, when she stops running, she clutches at her speeding heart and wonders why it hurts.

* * *

><p>She will <em>heal<em> him – she thinks but does not say.

She will heal that gentle boy with the gently music, make him so happy that he will never have to ruin another one of his melodies ever again.

It is a resolution that she keeps secret, hides in her heart of hearts, because she knows how foolish it is, how presumptuous, how _wrong. _She is smart enough to know that love does not work that way.

But she is not smart enough to abandon hope.

So when she sees him next at the pulpit beside the infamous Uchiha Fugaku, she only thinks that she has her work cut out for her.

She knows all about them, of course – everybody does. Theirs is a seedy family, not quite in the forefront of power, but always skillfully manipulating the country behind the scenes. They own a firearms factory and serve as the military's sole supplier of weapons and bombs.

That family – according to the rebellious Uchiha Itachi, who has already been disowned by his father due to 'irreconcilable differences' – has a monopoly on death, and Uchiha Sasuke is the heir.

If rumor can be believed, the younger Uchiha will be going to military school next year. He is to enter the military in order to further increase their family's influence on the country's workings.

Sasuke is, as Itachi said, their father's real pride and joy.

There is nothing remotely gentle about him.


	10. Faust

**Author's Notes:** This is probably going to be the only finished fic here, but only because I wrote out the ending and left out pretty much everything that lead to it. The paragraph where Sakura appeared just killed this fic for me because I messed it up so badly. So yeah, probably never gonna really finish this.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto

**Faust**

"Alright…"

Uchiha Sasuke was feeling dizzy, asphyxiated, _trapped_.

"…deal."

Although, whether it was because of the faint smell of sulfur hanging in the air or because of the fact that he had just signed his soul to an eternity of torture, he wasn't entirely sure.

He shivered lightly – an action uncharacteristic of him, but fully understandable considering who (_or what_) he was currently facing – as he reached out to shake hands with the small boy standing in front of him.

His discomfort might have been due to the simple reason that he was sitting, quite hopelessly, in the middle of a maximum-security prison cell. And by all principles of reason and logic, he should be all alone.

And yet there he was, looking at a child, a mirror of his younger self, a perfect copy, wearing the very clothes he wore in another, happier lifetime.

But there was something wrong with it, something he couldn't quite pinpoint, something that made him want to turn back, run away, _forget_.

"Are you sure?"

Sasuke nodded. There was nothing else he could do.

The child smiled brightly, face the picture of pure innocence, as Sasuke retracted his hand.

"Good choice, mister," said the boy, voice high-pitched and gleeful, "now I just need you to place a drop of your blood… just a teeny bit… right here!"

Warily, Sasuke glanced down at the figure, an intricate circle that was circumscribed with unintelligible symbols, embossed on the paper that the boy was holding out.

Wordlessly, he bit his thumb, drawing blood. Carefully, he placed a few drops at the spot indicated, the very center.

The act itself was barely caused him any pain, but Sasuke knew that it was merely an investment. The rest would come later – _much later._

Then, the world spun.

And the last thing he remembered was the child's face chipping away, revealing sinister serpentine skin underneath and chilling yellow eyes.

For a moment, he thought it was just a dream, and a torrent of relief washed over him.

Then the smell of breakfast – eggs and fish and fragrant, _fragrant_ rice – wafted up to him, and he could do nothing but roll to his side, sink into his pillow, _and_ cry.

Silent shuddering sobs wrack his frame as he reels from a maelstrom of emotions – joy, sorrow, fear, and anticipation. And always, at the back of his mind, a question: 'how much will this cost?'

Spent and utterly exhausted from his outburst, he fought to compose himself. He wiped his tears and rubbed his eyes and wearily made his way to the mirror at the corner of his room.

All it took was one glance at the polished glass to make him grimace.

He looked horrible.

Briefly, he wondered whether he should try to fix his appearance or to just leave the house for a while, to come back only when he was ready.

But he wanted this – he yearned for this for so long and—

As if on cue, he heard a knock on his door—

"Breakfast, Sasuke."

-and a voice that almost made him lose all the composure he had tried so hard to regain.

"Don't make mother wait."

His hand itched for a minute, instinct telling him to summon up his trademark technique and mark the air with the sound of a million chirping birds, but the sensation was swiftly suppressed.

"I'm coming—", he said.

Then, tentatively, "—_brother_".

* * *

><p>When he sat down at the breakfast table – to eggs, fish, rice, and <em>family <em>– he felt a bit choked. A tiny bubble had risen up inside him, comprised of all the emotions he had gone so long without.

As it was, it took all the willpower he had to act normal around them, as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

But it still wasn't enough.

His clan wasn't called 'most powerful' for nothing, after all.

"Sasuke-chan,"—So his mother still called him that. Part of him found it endearing, but mostly, he found it embarrassing—"if it's Sakura-chan again, I can talk to her mom and—"

"It's not good for an Uchiha to be crying… for a _girl_, no less."

He was horrified, really. It was the first time he saw his father in years and the first thing he had done was to disappoint the guy.

"I wasn't—"

"It's also not good for an Uchiha to make excuses—"

"Dear, you're being too hard on Sasuke-chan. Falling in love is a normal part of adolescence and—"

She really shouldn't call him Sasuke-cha—wait—_what_?

"—or to hide under his mother's skirt", his father finished. Sasuke's gratitude for his mother's defense rapidly melted to slight irritation, and he couldn't help but want to voice a protest.

"But—"

All it took was his father to send him a pointed glare for him to clamp his mouth shut.

To his left, he could hear Itachi's condescending snigger, and it was enough for Sasuke to reconsider that Chidori that he had tried so hard to contain earlier.

Really, he had forgotten all about the, well, _inconveniences_ of actually having a family. But he had to admit, deep inside, his spirit was soaring.

* * *

><p>By the time he met up with his teammates, he was already questioning the sanity of this – this <em>alternate<em> universe.

"I am _not_ talking to you."

He hadn't even known that she was capable of giving such venomous glares.

"Sakura—"

"LALALALLALALALALAAAA! CAN'THEARYOU—"

So saying, she stuck a finger in each of her ears and childishly, immaturely, _annoyingly_ made faces at him. Still, he would not be deterred.

"Sakura, don't you think you're being—"

"—LALALALALALA! MY EARS ARE IMMUNE TO THE VOICE OF A JERK—"

"immature and—"

"—LALALALALAA—"

"—_annoying_."

"Exactly. So go away. Shoo! Disappear!"

Sasuke winced, not exactly used to the idea of Sakura – who used to pine for him, ask him for dates, follow him around, beg him not to leave – sending him away.

Really, where had all that respect gone?

"Fine", he bit out, "Have it your way."

"I intend to", she said airily before walking away.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"_Fine."_

"Will you guys please stop it? You're acting like kids! We're about to go on a mission, for crying out loud!"

Chastised, he folded his arms into his chest and looked away. Sakura did the same. But not before making a face and childishly sticking a tongue out at him.

Really, how could a place where _Naruto_ was being the _mature_ _one_ be anything short of sane?

Still, sane or not, he was warming up to it rapidly. Mainly because he knew that a world where they were _children_ – not world-weary adults in small, tiny, not-quite-there-yet bodies – was a world that he could believe in.

* * *

><p>Six hours, twenty four minutes, and twelve seconds later, Kakashi finally arrived.<p>

And after the traditional 'you're late!' from Sakura and Naruto and the quintessential excuse from Kakashi, they finally found out about their mission.

Or the lack of it.

Having already wasted a quarter of their day waiting for their mentor, this came as quite a disappointment. A big one.

But at least it meant that they had the remainder of the day to themselves.

Sasuke, not quite used to his new surroundings yet, decided to spend the day familiarizing himself with the village. It wouldn't be an easy feat, considering how much he hated the Konoha that he had left behind, but he would try.

* * *

><p>In another life, he would have made it into the history books, gone down as one of the strongest ninjas to ever grace the world.<p>

He would have wreaked havoc unimaginable, caused pain unparalleled.

At the end, he would have died by the hangman's noose, in front of the whole village, half of them orphaned because of him. And he would have died smiling.

But in this life, things were different.

He was a good friend, a good father, a good husband, and, ultimately, a good person.

He was an elite ninja with a stellar career – but never one of the best. He would not make it into the history books, definitely. But he would never make it into the bingo book either.

He was, all things considered, happy.

Middle-aged and slightly rheumatic, he made his way through the rooms of his five children, giving each one an approving look, filled with love and pride and maybe a bit of sadness, before bending down to give them a kiss good night, good bye.

Then, he goes into _their_ room – his, and his wife's – and gently nudges her awake.

He wants to see her eyes, green and warm and loving, one more time.

Her expression contorts into one of sleep confusion and he presses a light peck at the tip of her nose, if only because she still looks adorable, even at the age of 54.

Then, in an act perfected by the years of practice, he claims her lips, pouring everything that he is, everything that he was, and everything that he could have been into those few minutes of contact.

They broke apart, almost hesitantly, regretfully.

Then, she asked, ever insightful, "What's wrong, Sasuke-kun?"

Briefly, he wondered whether he should tell her, but ultimately, he decided against it.

Instead, he echoed the words he had said to her a long time ago, in a different world, a different age.

"Sakura, Thank you."

And he meant it just as much as he did the first time, maybe even more.

"I really love you, Sasuke-kun—is… is everything alright?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow", he lied as he buried his face into her hair, inhaling her scent, memorizing it. He would need it for the days ahead.

"Mm, go back to sleep then."

She felt him give him a tight squeeze and a small peck on the cheeks before she released him and drifted back to sleep.

"Later."

He marveled at the trust in her whole countenance, thankful for it, for the affirmation that she loved him and he loved her, and that they both knew that.

He touched her cheek, savoring the contact. It was so different from that other world where the only way they would touch each other was if they had the intent to kill.

He sighed, once. Then, legs heavy and reluctant – though he told himself that it was just his rheumatism acting up, he turned away.

Still, he was a happy man, a lucky man.

And Uchiha Sasuke, in this world, died with no regrets.

It was with a healthy amount of fear that he followed the young child in front of him as he set out to fulfill his part of the deal, but he did not beg, did not cry, did not falter, not even when he saw the flaming pyres.

There were no regrets.

Because when it all came down to it, he knew: In that other world, he would have ended up there anyway.

So in the end, he was still the winner.

**Fin. But not Really.**


End file.
